Beginnings With No Ends
by coketart
Summary: Stories I started but never finished, all published here. Various ideas and inspirations. T for some mild swearing and some dark-ish themes and moments. Some Jackelica. Read and review please.
1. Treasure of the North: Reunions

_**I have several stories I started but never ended. They just had to get on paper. There are so many ideas, and too many scenarios, and I know I'll never finish them. So, I will put them all together in this collection thingy of stories started but never finished. **_

_**The first one was entitled 'The Northern Treasure' and was about a treasure (obviously) in Iceland that involved a golden compass that pointed to the nearest treasure. This one actually was going to have a sequel, but I never even finished the first, so that's not going to happen.**_

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**.**

**Decided to give fandom a shot after I saw several others slowly deteriorate before my eyes. Seriously. One thing happens, and the whole thing comes crashing down. So, anyway, this is post OST, say a few months.**

**General disclaimer: The only things I own are the characters I come up with. Nothing else.**

**.Reunions.**

Jack Sparrow on Tortuga was not uncommon and happened every once in a while, usually when his ship had just been stolen from him again. Although, in this case, even though he actually had his ship, he still found himself in need of a one and because two people (well, a captain and a pig) just didn't cut it. He had found a few men sober enough to interview, and about ten of them had seemed seaworthy.

At the time, however, Jack wished nothing more than to be drunk and sleep, for that was what the last sailor had done, right before his eyes. Yup, the sailor, a man by the apparent name of 'Grib', had simply leaned back and fallen from his stool, snoring loudly. Jack closed his eyes, trying to think of the _Pearl_, his _Pearl_, but then remembering she was trapped in a bottle. It made him angry, seeing his love in there and having no way to get her out.

As he heard the next person in line (one of the last ones, thank goodness) remove Grib and sit down on the stool opposite Jack, he opened his eyes again, surprised at what he saw.

The man- no, correction- the boy who was sitting across from him did not look like a sailor at all. For one, his hair was dark while his skin was pale- if he had been sailing the Caribbean or other warm waters for a while, his skin would be burned and his hair bleached by the sun. Also, the boy was thin, and looked like even the softest wind could throw him right overboard. Why was he here?

Although, the boy's physical features weren't the weirdest bit. It was the clothes. Now, Jack had seen many different fashions throughout his life, but never anything like this. The shirt was made out of a seemingly black, light material, but from the pushed up sleeves, Jack could see it was designed to keep out the cold. Before he could take his time to study the curious boy in more detail however, he decided to speak.

"And who are you?"

The boy narrowed his eyes the tiniest amount and cocked his head ever-so-slightly to the right. Jack could tell the boy wasn't accustomed to the question and giving his name away, but obviously chose to talk.

"Dagfinnr Trygvesson." Jack snorted.

"Quite a mouthful, in'it?" The boy simply rolled his eyes.

"Call me Dag, captain Sparrow."

"Alright then… Dag. What makes you think I want you on me ship?"

Dag shook a few stray strands of hair out of his face.

"I've heard things during the time I've been here. You're looking for a man called Barbossa and his ship."

Even though Dag's comment raised Jack's eyebrows slightly, he let the boy continue.

"Someone told me your real ship is locked in a bottle- though I don't know how that could happen. The same person also informed me that the only person who could help you, you left stranded on an island. But that's beside the point. Captain Sparrow, have you heard of the Ridge of Death?" Dag was suddenly more serious at the last part, as he lowered his voice slightly and looked Jack straight in the eye.

"There be many of those, lad. Now if you don't mind,"

"Most commonly known as the Ridge of Crows, captain," Dag interrupted him, knowing that that would catch and hold Jack's attention. "Yes, the Ridge of Crows."

"Isn't that where they train these weird… oh. And what might you be?"

Dag grinned.

"Dagfinnr Trygvesson, master assassin, at your service. Yes, at the Ridge of Crows, there is a school that trains people like me. Though, due to most unfortunate circumstances, I'm not so welcome there anymore. _But_, last thing I heard and saw, Barbossa is heading up there."

"Interesting… you annoy me. But what would that bag of filth be wantin' up there? I mean, Iceland is quite an undesirable place if you ask me. Offence meant to be taken by you Icelanders."

"Unfortunately for you, captain, no offence is taken. Iceland truly is an undesirable place to live and I dare say I'm glad to be away from there, but there are some things that are stronger drive than comfort. Listen, captain, here is what I have to offer. A friend of mine is a master thief, and could steal any one of these ships in a heartbeat. We can lead you up to Iceland, and you would be at a massive advantage, seeing as we know those waters better than almost anyone else up there, and certainly better than anyone else down here. Actually…" Dag tensed slightly as his eyes flitted behind Jack. Through a lowered voice, he spoke the word "Duck," before grabbing a knife from his side and hurling it at Jack, narrowly missing the captain, or so he thought.

Instead, the knife didn't even make any noise as it should have, hitting the wall.

After a bit of shuffling and a muffled shout or two, Jack dared look up, to see Dag standing up beside the table, his forearm pressed against the neck of someone else. Unfortunately for the boy though, that other person's forearm was pressed against his own neck, and the other person was holding a knife in each hand.

"Exile hasn't done you much good, Dag," the other person, who seemed to be female, said in a low voice. Dag chuckled weakly, obviously trying to fight back, but just as obviously scared of the knives the girl was holding.

"I can say the same about you, Volly," Dag muttered, before swiftly outmaneuvering the girl and taking back his knife, holding it to her neck. She simply sighed and lowered her knife into its sheath at her right side, and Dag did the same.

Just as Jack thought that Dag would sit back down and introduce him to 'Volly', Volly brought her knee up to Dag's ribcage and threw him not-so-gently against the wall, taking out her knife again and pressing the tip gently at Dag's temple. Well, now Jack was actually pleased.

"Sorry to interrupt such a lovely and not-deadly reunion, whatever your names are, I'm sure they're quite unpronounceable. Just one question, boy. Does she always do this?"

Dag nodded weakly, Volly's arm once again cutting off his breathing. Assuming that this was Dag's 'friend', the master thief, he decided it was time to leave.

"Brilliant. Bring her along- we leave in two days- I expect a ship."

Volly turned her head for a split second, nodding at the command, before turning back to torturing Dag.

It was right around then that things got very interesting for Jack. Unfortunately, it started with someone stealing his hat. Angrily turning around at the feeling of the musty air around his hair, but he could only see a figure weaving their way through the mesh of drunken sailors and out the door, placing the hat, _his _hat, on their head.

Jack, of course, followed, having lost that hat a few too many times in the past years. The person was fast, making their way down the alley crowded with drunken people, and finally stepping into what looked to be an old storage house- sadly abandoned with a few stacks of hay but not much else in it. Jack had been in there once or twice, usually after waking up from having had one too many bottles of rum (although he still disagreed with that saying- you could never have too much rum).

"Oy, me hat! Give me back my hat!" Jack growled as he entered the house, closing the door behind him and drawing his sword, walking towards the person who was standing calmly in the center of the room, under the only window of the house- the moonlight shining onto them, but the shadow of the hat covering the person's face.

The person merely chuckled, drawing their own sword. As they began to fight, it was an eerie echo of the fight Jack had had with Angelica several months back. Again, the person and himself were quite well matched up in skills and maneuvers, but Jack soon found their weakness. The person, at all costs, avoided the center light; probably out of fear their face would be recognized.

It was right around then that Jack started getting suspicious- some of the techniques that were being used on him were techniques he had come up with himself, and taught little to no people. Except… yes, this really was an echo, he thought, suddenly driving the person right into the light and grabbing his hat off _her _head, grabbing her roughly and kissing her- again. Both fortunately and unfortunately, she broke it off after several seconds; both of them knowing that if she hadn't they'd never be able to face each other.

"You keep steeling from me, Angelica. If you really wanted to see me naked, you could've just said so," Jack smirked at the woman in front of him, who returned his smirk with a glare, though he could see that she was trying not to smile.

"You wish, Jack Sparrow," she hissed, turning away from him and locking the door to the house, making sure they would be undisturbed. Jack chuckled.

"Well, you've got me attention. Speak, A."

"A?" Angelica questioned.

"Well, the first part, you know, the 'Angelic' part, doesn't really suit you right now. So what do you want?"

"I heard you were going after the one legged man. I want to go with you. I want my revenge, since blaming you for my father's death will get us nowhere; though note that you are by no means forgiven, Jack. I want to kill the man and…" she smirked. "Get my _Revenge_ back."

"Well, if that's all, all you had to do was ask, love, not steal my hat and lock us in an old storage house."

"Jack… you and I both know that wouldn't have worked." Angelica's voice turned into a seductive whisper as she stepped yet closer to Jack; the voice she and he knew he couldn't resist.

"Well, yes, love, but you still could've done it."

"And what good would that have brought me?" Her mouth was close to his ear now, her breath tickling it, sending shivers (though he'd never admit it) down his spine.

"Saved us the trouble of a fight?" Jack tried weakly, but knew it wouldn't work.

"But there's no fun in that, Jack."

"Oh, so it's fun you want. I repeat- all you had to do was ask," Jack murmured, turning his face lightly, letting her lips glide lightly over his cheek, before she pulled back, facing him with a charming yet evil smirk.

Pulling him close to her one more time and whispering in his ear 'you wish, Jack Sparrow', she pushed him roughly onto the hay, turned, and quickly left the house, locking the door once more from the outside, smiling at hearing his loud curses, though they were soon lost in the drunken shouts and screams from Tortuga.

_**Okay, reviews are greatly appreciated. What do you think of the new characters? Jack and Angelica's interaction? Not too proud of that last part, I must say, but I'll work on it. Review, please! Oh yeah, this **_**will**_** have Jack/Angelica in it, though I will do nothing rated M, just saying.**_


	2. Treasure of the North: Taunts

_**.Taunts.**_

„And here I thought I'd never have to see you again," Volly spat at Dag as they sat down at a table tucked away in a quiet (if that was possible) corner of the tavern. "Oh well, some dreams never come true." Dag blinked a bit, but otherwise didn't seem disturbed by Volly's comments.

"I missed you too, Volly. Where've you been? Haven't seen you around here- in fact, haven't seen you since… well, a while." Both of them knew he was avoiding the topic of being sent into exile. "How are you?" Volly shrugged.

"Well, after that filthy bit if scrum threw me off a cliff with my hands tied to my back, I somehow managed to get them to my front. Admittedly, it was a little hard swimming like that, but I made it to the Academy, where I… I uh, stole a boat. You?" It was odd, Dag noted, how she was acting. His friend was usually full of sarcastic and snide remarks directed towards him, but she was actually acting as if she really hated him. That meant she was trying to have a friendly conversation with him. And there was something off about her story- something had happened at the Academy, but he wasn't sure what.

"Well, after our buddy _Rollo_ sold us out, Commander Perry did pretty much the same to me, and I guess great minds think alike because I wound up at the Academy eventually too. I _politely asked_ someone to _lend_ me a ship and they were only too _happy_ to," Dag grinned at Volly, trying to cover up the slip up about Rollo, but it was clear that Volly did not find it amusing.

"Okay, first off, I know you threatened to kill Bjorn if he didn't give you a ship, and secondly, you don't know a thing about Rollo."

"Oh, don't I? Let me refresh your memory. Daniel killed my father and then was threatening you. Luckily, I spotted him in time and killed him. When he heard screams, Rollo came running, saw blood on me and you and ratted us out to his daddy dearest, that's what happened! He didn't care what happened to us, just to look good to his father, that's the truth!" Dag shouted angrily, but found Volly still looking at a point right past him with the same blank expression she had been wearing as soon as Dag's rant started.

"The man who told me to steal a ship earlier, who was he and why am I sailing with him?" She asked, expressionless, her voice dangerously controlled. Unfortunately for her, it only made Dag angrier.

"Goddammit, Vollan!" He shouted as he stood up, slamming his fist against the wall, using Volly's last name in rage. Luckily for them, the shouts of the drunken men and women around them drowned it out slightly, so no one got suspicious. "Why? Okay, why, I'm asking it, why? You never talk about it, there was clearly something that happened, you always get the same god damn expression! I'm starting to think you just don't care!"

"The man, his name?" Volly hissed at Dag, standing up, crossing her arms, and glaring at him, a venomous glare that would've killed, had it been able to. Breathing hard, Dag turned and leant against the wall, silently fuming, but figuring it wouldn't get him anywhere- being angry at Volly.

"Captain Jack Sparrow; our ticket back up north. We're stealing a ship for him and acting as tour guides to find a man by the name of Barbossa who sails on the _Queen Anne's Revenge_. In return, we get a ride back up there to settle our scores. I don't know about you, but after a few days in these warm waters, my boat started falling apart."

"Yeah, mine too. So… I'm guessing we're gonna go steal a ship. You wanna come?"

Dag didn't get it, how she could talk so simply, as if he hadn't just gotten angry at her. But he shrugged anyway, following her out of the crowded tavern and into the rain outside, making their way down to the docks.

"So I'm guessing we're looking for something on the smaller side, preferably flexible and fast." Her eyes quickly landed on a boat and she smiled, running over to the _Light of Victory_, a ship that fit her descriptions perfectly. Dag groaned.

"Volly, you do know that this is the ship of-"

"Captain Eagle, I know. I mean, there's no fun in stealing a ship that belongs to some unknown captain or sailor. No, we're stealing this one, Dag. Okay… so, you see that clump of rocks off to the right? That's where all thieves hide their stolen ships and that is where Eagle is going to look first. What most people don't know however is that if you sail around the right, you come to a small channel that leads to the center, where my boat fell to bits. But it's completely secluded and invisible. So, we sail out there tonight and then take the little boat thingies back to shore, you find your captain and tell him we're clear, _allt í lagi_?"

"_Já_, _elskan_" Dag simply replied, following Volly up to the _Victory_, though his plans were put slightly to hold when she turned and punched his gut, warning him not to call her _elskan_ again. But it just wasn't the same. Usually, neither of them would've minded the teasing nicknames anymore, but something had changed. Exile hadn't done either of them well.

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By the time morning came, Jack Sparrow had managed to get out of the old storage house, though it had been proven somewhat difficult, especially with so little rum in his system. So, when he stumbled out in the early morning hours, it took most of the nonexistent energy he had not to faceplant.

"Sleep well, Jack?" A taunting voice spoke from next to him. "It took you longer than I expected to break out of there; the window in the top was open," Angelica smiled innocently up at him.

"Well, after I noticed that, I also noticed that you left me without a rope, Angelica dearest, so I was trapped with several mice and rats and whatever else was scurrying around there for the night."

"Oh poor you," she deadpanned. "I'm sure you've had worse," she finished, throwing him a bottle of rum and walking down towards the ports, beckoning him to follow her. Knowing he had no better place to go and wondering if he already had a ship, Jack followed her, though it was against his better judgment (if everything had gone according to him, he would be back in the tavern, drunk as ever).

As they reached the docks, the bottle of rum was almost all the way empty, and Jack couldn't help but be sad about it. His mood wasn't improved when he found no new or other ship tied up somewhere, and no sign of either Volly or Dag. Making his way slowly down the walk, he kept a close lookout for the assassin and the thief, but, surprisingly (sarcasm), he didn't find them. Well, they had to be well trained in disguise… wait a minute.

As he rounded a corner that lead onto a street back into down, he abruptly stopped, causing Angelica, who had taken to following him, to run into him. He turned and walked briskly out towards the end of the rows of boats, ignoring Angelica's questions (or were they insults), out to where only four little longboats were tied to the pier. Sleeping quite peacefully in one of these were the two kids, though by the looks of it, they had tried to sleep away from each other as far as humanly possible, but still on the same ship. Odd.

As if she were a creature he wasn't sure was dead or not, Jack poked the girl (what was her name again? Dolly? Colly? Volly, that was it) in the shoulder. She shot up, blinking, but upon seeing no apparent danger, leant back down against the ship, when she noticed Jack and Angelica, and jumped up into a defensive position with a small shout.

When she noticed it was just the captain, she sighed, turning back to Dag, pushing a few loose strands of hair out of the way. Rolling her eyes, she stepped out of the boat, grabbed a piece of rotten wood off the walkway, and threw it with quite some force at the sleeping boy. Dag's eyes flew open as the piece of wood hit him square in the chest, and even though the force of impact wasn't so great, he still toppled over the side of the boat, landing with a splash in the water.

Angelica pulled Jack aside, seemingly quite angry with him.

"_These_ are the people who are going to steal a boat for us?" She hissed incredulously.

"Admittedly, he did sound more professional…."

"Jack, these are children! Children, they cannot be trusted!"

"Look, love, that might be true, but Barbossa is heading up north and they are our tour guides."

"Tour guides?"

"…Yes, tour guides."

"I can't believe I'm going to be sailing with you."

"I never asked you in the first place."

"You know, I really hate to break up fight, and please, by all means, get back at it after we're done talking, but we've got you a ship, captain," a voice said from behind Jack. The voice was rough, for a girl, almost hoarse, and sounded unhealthy. Jack figured it was the first time he really had heard Volly speak.

They turned around to see Volly and Dag (the latter of which was soaked and looking unhappy). They looked even worse they had had last night- the yellow light of the tavern had given them a semi-healthy look, but in the cold grey morning, they could see the children's pale skin stretched tightly over their bones, as if they hadn't gotten enough to eat for the last few months. Their eyes were dark (even though they were actually light blue in color) and their hair was dull. And even though it was clear they had energy, they had an odd energy less appearance.

Both of them were wearing completely black clothes, tight fitted, presumably because of their training. It was obvious that they were designed to be worn in cold weather, seeing as Dag had his pant legs and sleeves rolled up, and Volly had tied her shirt up to her ribcage. While both were barefooted, Jack could see two pairs of boots lying in the boat the children had slept in; identical pairs apparently made of leather and wool, dyed near to black with something or another.

"We stole the ship. I will not tell you where it is, but you said we leave tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds 'bout right," Jack commented, a sudden urge to drink rum washing over him again as he put the now empty bottle to his lips one more time.

"Okay. Meet us here whenever; we've got no other place to be. The crew can come and start loading whenever they wish. Now please, I interrupted a fight. Continue." And with that, she turned and walked back over to the long boat, getting into the same position she had been in earlier, and promptly falling asleep.

"I apologize for… _her_. But she is the best thief we have- they had. She actually didn't use to be like this, but ex- never mind. I should probably also go back to sleep," Dag muttered, abruptly breaking off his previous sentence, presumably not wanting to talk about exile.

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Valentin Ivory hated the fact that his father was in the military. For him, it meant being on best behavior at all times, his dad throwing him at other people's daughters, and having to deal with a certain amount of royalty. Secretly, he always envied the pirates on the wanted posters his father brought home, wishing that he would have a chance to run away some day. He knew he'd be a good pirate, he just did.

Unfortunately, security at the Ivory residence was at a maximum. Even after the death of the infamous Blackbeard (less commonly known as Edward Teach), the Pirate Lords were still roaming the Seven Seas, and Jonathan Ivory, Valentin's dad, thought that at any moment, a pirate would break into his house and steal his children, and more importantly, his riches.

The one thing that Lord Commander (and whatever other titles he had) Ivory had forgotten was that the windows in the attic didn't lock properly, and what he didn't know was that his son was an often visitor with the maids up there. In fact, after having been out on missions so much, he had completely missed his oldest child entering puberty and growing up- he had become quite popular with the young women of the town.

Valentin's younger sisters were still young, very young, at tender ages of ten and twelve, and didn't know of Valentin's nightly journeys to the attic. Mary and Victoria were proper and would never think anything bad of their brother or father for that matter. Valentin knew how to use that to his advantage, by telling them that he was going out for some extra mathematics classes.

Instead, he donned a plain white shirt and a black waistcoat, brown pants and the oldest looking boots he could find that didn't look military. He knew that the clothes would be removed in a few minutes anyway by some eager young maid, but it was easier to have them there to put on again, instead of going back downstairs.

Before he left his room for one last time, he grabbed three things- a sword, a dark cape and a triangular hat that he had often seen pirates wear on their 'Wanted' posters. With these things under his arm, he chuckled, making his way up to the attic.

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"And what makes ye think ye 'r worthy to travel the seven seas?" a small man with sideburns and a drunk aura around him asked Valentin later that night (or was it earlier that morning) over a bottle (more like five) of rum in a loud crowded tavern. Valentin had had to wait his turn with all the other people in line; apparently sailing with captain Jack Sparrow was an honor that many desired, but out of the somewhat thirty that had been in line with Valentin, only five had made it so far.

"Please. I was born and raised all around ships, and it's my dream to get away from this godforsaken piece of land. Really, it's all I've ever wanted. I am a good and hard worker, and honest."

The man seemed to nod, and for a second, Valentin got his hopes up. He hadn't travelled all the way to Tortuga just to be rejected after all.

"Ye seem a bit youthful in the years to be lookin' for adventure." This comment yet again made Valentin angry. He knew he was short and thin for his age, and he didn't have a very mature hue around him- stubble had yet to form on his chin.

"I am seventeen. I think I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

The man (Gibbs, by the name) looked slightly suspicious, but then sighed.

"Alright, Mr.…?"

"I- Avery. Just Avery," Valentin replied, deciding against using his real name.

"Alright then, Avery, t'morrow at dawn, be at the end of the docks where there be four long boats. Don't be late."

"Yes, sir," Avery replied, smiling, but not letting his happiness shine all the way through- he didn't want to come across as more suspicious than he already was. "I'll be there."

_**Reviews?**_


	3. Treasure of the North: Suspicions

**._Suspicions._**

It wasn't until midday that Dag and Volly woke up. Unfortunately, it was due to the heat, something they were not used to at all. They felt sweaty and gross as their clothes clung to them, but, having no money or anything, they couldn't get a change of clothes, and even for the master thief, stealing in a pirate town didn't seem right.

"Tell me, is this where the crew of captain Sparrow is meeting," a loud voice came from over their heads. Volly shuddered at the thick British accent that reminded her of… well, of the people who exiled her and Dag. But, she figured she'd have to get used to it.

"No clue what you're talking about, soldier boy," she muttered, standing up and stretching, not even bothering to look around at the person behind her. The person, however, made the stupid mistake of thinking he could grab her arm. Quick as lightning, she spun around, flipping the situation (and the boy) so that with one push, his arm could be broken.

"Please, I want to live! I just asked if this was where-"

"Shut up, idiot, or do you want the world to know?" Dag snarled, getting out of the boat and bending down. "Let him go, Volly. He's not lying. Although, why Sparrow would hire someone like him is above me."

Somewhat reluctantly, Volly let go of the boy's arm, and he sprung up, only to lose his balance and almost topple into the water, had Dag not caught him and pushed him forwards, so he landed face down on the brittle wood of the dock. The boy got up again (with less force), wiped his clothes quickly (trying to get the mud off of them was useless though) and fixated Volly and Dag with a glare.

"When my- I mean, who the bloody hell are you?"

"Sailing with Sparrow, who are you?" Volly responded, feeling her name had already been given to two too many people (Jack and Angelica).

"V-Avery, my-me name's Avery. And you didn't answer my question, who the bloody hell are you?"

"Alright then, _Vavery_, I'm Finn, and this is-"

"Lenni," Volly ended Dag's sentence curtly. The guy, Avery, was fuming.

"My name is Avery, and I heard people call you by other names. Gag and Dolly?"

Dag and Volly snorted.

"Well, dearest Avery, we've been called many names, a lot of which would corrupt your sweet innocent little mind," Volly grinned.

"My mind is not sweet, innocent, nor little!" Avery exclaimed with a hurt expression on his face, and by this time, Dag was trying hard not to fall in the water (again) from laughing.

"Well then…" Volly muttered, stepping in closer to Avery and whispering in his ear. Avery chuckled slightly.

"Oh please. I've been in all the maid's beds where I used to live," he said with a cocky smile, but Volly shrugged.

"Well damn, you must be good. Just don't come crawling into my bed- I should warn you, I sleep with a poisoned dagger."

"Good?" Avery looked confused. Once again, Volly stepped closer and whispered in the young man's ear, and when she stepped away, he had a horrified expression on his face.

"W-well, I-I I uh, well…"

"As I said, your mind is sweet and innocent."

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It was a hard time to be a Jack Sparrow, Jack thought as he entered the tavern and his eyes landed on the 'Wanted' posters that had even made their way in there. The likeness between himself and the person drawn was uncanny- well, at least it looked like him, handsome as ever (although he didn't say this out loud; for sure Angelica would have some remark at the ready).

"Jack," he heard the Spanish beauty next to him speak as she pointed to the posters. "We shouldn't stay here long. It is not safe."

"And why pray may that be?"

"There is a rumor that there are searches going on, by the British," Angelica muttered, leading him over to a free table in the back of the tavern. Her eyes were alert and scanning for possible exit routes and rooms to hide in, but unfortunately, they were all blocked. The only free nook was quite shallow and you couldn't hide two people in there.

"Yes, but this is Tortuga, love. They don't-" he was interrupted by the door swinging open loudly, and shouts subsiding.

"Carry on. We only are looking for one man," a cold British voice said over the crowd, and, sure enough, the sailors went back at their drinking, knowing that the British weren't looking for them. Angelica and Jack however froze slightly. Thinking of the easiest way to get out unseen, Angelica frowned, but she figured it was necessary.

Pulling Jack to the unoccupied nook she had seen earlier, away from the British who were filing in through the door, she shoved him gently in it, stepping in beside him.

"What are-"

"Kiss me," she said quietly, still looking at the redcoats, who were getting closer by the second.

"What-"

"Just do it," she hissed, the panic becoming clearer in her voice.

"Well, if you insist (how could he resist giving a woman what she wanted)," she could practically feel his smirk as he spoke, pulling her in front of him and kissing her. It was… indescribable, having him kiss her again- it brought back every feeling she had experienced when they first met, and later. But she couldn't let his damn talented lips distract her from the escape plan still formulating in her mind.

Gently but with a touch of authority, her hand pulled his head to her neck, hiding his face from the eager looks of the soldiers. He didn't protest (actually just kept kissing and sucking at her neck, and the indescribable floating feeling in her stomach was back), and she made sure to keep his face hidden as a young soldier walked towards her.

"I- err, well, we're looking for a man named-"

"Jack Sparrow?" Angelica responded with a flirty look, still making sure Jack's head was at her neck (not that he had anything against that).

"Yeah, and, well, I-"

"Hmm… I could only dream that this here were that handsome man on the posters," Angelica said just loud enough for Jack and the soldier to hear, and flinched when Jack bit the lobe of her ear a bit harder than he normally would have (not that he would normally be doing this with her). "But you aren't bad, soldier. You are here for a few days, yes? Maybe I will visit you later," she winked at him, extremely flirtatiously.

The poor young soldier turned bright red in the face, and after a hurried concealed nod, he made his way quickly back to his companions.

"Handsome man on the posters?" she heard Jack murmur into her ear.

"Don't let it get to your head. I was talking about the depiction anyway," Angelica grinned, but the response from Jack was another nip at her earlobe, causing her hand around his neck to pinch him not-so-gently.

"Well, I guess if I'm that bad in looks I'll have to make it up with this," Jack said softly into her ear again, and his lips were on hers _again_, his so damn talented lips. Even though everything in her screamed to let him continue, she pushed him slightly away.

"They're gone, let's leave."

"Can't we just-" he started kissing her jawline (at which she had quite some trouble stifling a sigh of pleasure), but she swiftly brought her knee up, causing Jack to stumble away from her, doubled over.

"Let's go."

"But we just got here. And I had no rum," Jack pouted as Angelica lead him to the door.

"It doesn't matter. They could be back any time."

And, as if to prove her point, the soldiers were seen (through a barely see through-able window) walking back down the street, shortly stopping outside the tavern, but not entering. As soon as they were out of sight, Angelica pulled Jack out the tavern and the opposite way of the soldiers, into the darkness of the oncoming night.

.

.

.

Dark dreams found Jack as soon as he fell asleep. The dreams were about nothing specific- blurry images and shouts, but there was a deathly undertone to them. Every so often, there was a flash, almost like lightning, and for a split second- no, less- he could see someone. He didn't know who it was, but they were familiar. With every flash, they were slightly closer, only an inch or so.

There was a crack of thunder in his dream, and the person was right in front of him; he could feel their breath, their soft sweet breath, on his face. So familiar, yet so… distant. Like he hadn't felt it in a long time. Just as the image of the person started clearing up and he thought he could make out some distinguishable features, a sharp pain at his side woke him up.

.

.

"Where's the rum?" was the first thing that escaped his dry lips, and a sigh was heard, followed by a bottle being thrown at him. "Wait, where am I?"

"Should look familiar, Jack," an angelic voice belonging to a not-so-angelic person answered him, and he looked around to see Angelica leaning against a wall, looking at him. He, in turn, looked up and around, frowning. Sure he knew where he was.

"I'm guessing this time I can actually get out though?"

"No worries, Jack, I didn't lock the door from the outside. Anyway, we should get going. It will be light soon and it's best we get to the ship." She started walking towards the door. "Coming?"

_**Short, not proud of the last bit. **_


	4. Darker Ventures

_**Okay, so after that last one was going no where, I deleted it and started writing this one. The plot to this one was actually my favourite, and formed while hiking in the mountains. Sadly, my inspiration left me after I left the mountains, so I never finished this one :( There was a possibility for a sequel to this one, but I wasn't so sure.**_

**Didn't like where the other one was going, so here's a new start. **

At first, Jack thought he was hallucinating- it wouldn't have been the first time, after all. But since when did hallucinations make eye contact and then leave? They never felt this real. That was when he got up and followed the beautiful hallucination, even though his mind screamed at him not to. But since when had that stopped him? And anyway, this hallucination was way too beautiful to not-follow.

He followed her out of the crowded Tortuga cavern, down the street, to the docks. He found he didn't care who or what she was; he just wanted to be near her, near to his beautiful hallucination. But was she a hallucination? Could it be that she was real? No, the only person who captivated him like that was stuck on an island far away. This had to be a hallucination.

Or was she?

His whole perspective was totally blown when his so-called 'hallucination' turned around to face him. Upon instinct, he drew his sword, the distrust on his face obvious. She merely laughed, a small, stable laugh, and turned around again, facing the moonlight.

"We meet and you are pointing something at me. Again," she added, still looking out onto the open waters. Her voice… he had missed that voice, so, so much (not like he would admit it or anything). Her accent was soothing to his ears, which were still slightly ringing from the noise in the tavern and the alcohol in his system. It brought him a moment of sanity, and he wanted more.

"Angelica," he finally murmured, saying her name as though she were the most precious treasure in the world (which, respectively to him, she was), and he was the treasure hunter. He sheathed his sword, stepping closer to her. It was like they had rehearsed this reunion, over and over, in their separate minds.

Stepping yet closer again to the beautiful woman, she turned around to face him, and he did what he should have done all along. He cupped her head in his hands and kissed her- again and again, until she was kissing back, and even then, even though they knew they should have, they didn't stop. His arms slightly lowered, encircling her waist, drawing her closer; he needed the closeness, as did she, for her arms (as if on their own accord) wrapped around his neck.

"Hello, Jack," she said as they pulled apart, looking him directly in the eye. Her voice was soft and smooth, as if he had never done anything to hurt her, as if they were still so madly in love, as they had been when they were younger, so many years ago. Then, as if noticing all this, she frowned slightly, and her voice became dangerous. "Hello, Jack."

Her hand left a slightly burning red mark on his cheek (yeah, he deserved that), and her knee moving swiftly upwards left more than enough pain in his… lower areas (he definitely did _not_ deserve that… or did he?).

"Not so sure I deserved that, love," he managed over the stinging pain. Angelica huffed and rolled her eyes, turning away from Jack. As she walked down to the end of the dock and back, she seemed to be deep in thought; presumably contemplating her next steps. Jack had learned a long time ago that it was always dangerous to have a woman plan everything out (mostly because they got it all right all the damn time), but he didn't speak, knowing anything he said could and would be used against him.

"I think we both know you did, Jack."

"Oh really, enlighten me. What did I do?" It was the wrong thing to say and they both knew it.

"Well, starting with the fact that you exist and ending with the fact that you left me stranded on a desert island after telling me you loved me, there is quite a bit, but the last one stings just a little," she spat, purposely knocking into him as she passed him. Jack frowned slightly, knowing she was going to bring up the point of their last conversation eventually. It left him with a strange and uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, yet it was also oddly… wonderful.

What bothered him the most, he figured, was that that feeling had also been there at every contact with her, when he kissed her, even when he thought of her. He wasn't one to just fall head over heels for a woman, especially not one who could match him in a sword fight, but he had. Or had he? He wasn't sure; nothing ever seemed to make sense in his life.

"Well, love, I wasn't exactly left with much of a choice. I-"

"No choice? You had no choice? You could have let me get a ship- or helped me get one. And let me sail off to find the one-legged man! You could have dropped me off at Tortuga; you could have dropped me off at a convent! But no, you had to leave me on that island! _Hijo de perra_," she added at the end of her mini rant- she never was one to give long speeches in English.

"You know, I'd be more offended if I knew what you were saying, but I've got me this feeling that I don't want to know, so hear me out."

"Why should I, Sparrow?"

"… 'Cause I'm charming?"

"Not helping yourself," she hissed, her hand itching towards her sword. Oh, how she longed to just lash it out at him, had it not been for those accursed feelings that prevented her from hurting him all too seriously.

"Now you don't want to be having violent thoughts, love. So hear me out. I also have a little score to settle with our friend the filthy scum bag, Barbossa, so what say you we get a ship and a crew, and sail off after him- you can kill him or do however you please, and I get his sword and get the _Pearl_ back, savvy?"

Angelica seemed to think about it for a few seconds, staring hard at the horizon.

"We find us a ship and a crew or we join a crew?" She finally asked, still not looking directly at Jack, but he knew he had her.

"Either, though the first would be preferable. Think about it, love, me captain, you first mate. Then when we've tracked down the _Revenge_, you're the captain of that boat and I'm the captain of mine."

After a few more seconds, Angelica finally turned her head to look at him.

"Fine, we'll see whatever works out." She started walking down the dock again, towards the light city. "And Jack," she said, turning her head over her shoulder. "Just because I'm the first mate doesn't mean you can come crawling into my bed," she finished, turning back with a satisfied smile on her face, knowing how Jack's shoulders would sag _just a little_ at the prospect of not being able to sleep by her side.

"Bugger," she heard him say quietly.

.

.

When Jack woke up next, he was surprised to find himself behind bars. Actually, it was more of a grid, but it had the same desired effect: he was trapped. In the brig of a ship, no doubt, but _how the bloody hell did he end up here_? His mind flashed briefly to the evening before, only remembering having a crew, having a drink with a sailor, and then… well, then, blackness. Like when Angelica had shot him with that poisoned dart a while back.

Angelica.

Surely, she must be behind this, he thought as he got up, walking over to the door of his cell. But it would be locked, of course. She _would_ put him up to something like this. Would she? No, she wouldn't. She would have just thrown him overboard with a cut somewhere on the body into shark-infested waters.

A soft growl woke Jack from his daydreams of Angelica throwing him overboard. He looked up to the cell next to him, and was surprised to find a face staring back at him. A young face, no doubt, fifteen at most, but there was an aura emanating from it, a dark and vicious one, and there was something else. Hate? Possibly.

The boy's skin was olive- Mediterranean presumably- and had a tangled mess of black curls on his head. Every here and there, a braid would show; odd. What scared (or mildly frightened) Jack though were the boy's other features. Through the growling, the boy's mouth was opened slightly, revealing sharp fangs, and the hands that were clamped around the bars had sharp black points, like miniature talons, instead of nails. The boy's eyes were an orange-ish color, like… like copper. That was it.

"Hello?" Jack tried, but the boy (if he could be called that) hissed in response. Jack shrugged it off. "You wouldn't happen to know when or how I got here, would ya lad?"

The boy/undetermined animal growled in response again, obviously applying force to the bars out of anger. He opened his mouth and Jack expected him to speak (or growl), but instead, what came out was a low whispering language, almost as if it were fire. It was oddly calming, and Jack suddenly felt himself compelled to do whatever it asked him to.

"'Scuse me, could you repeat that?" He asked the boy when he was finished speaking in his weird tongue. "In English?" The boy shook his head and turned away, his shoulders slumped. It was only then that Jack saw that the boy's left sleeve was completely torn off, obviously showing something there. As Jack looked closer, he saw two things: a tattoo and a burn.

The tattoo was odd; it was a wing underneath a narrowed eye, and placed at the inside of the boy's shoulder. Looking at it sent odd chills down Jack's back, but he couldn't take his eyes away from it. It was drawing him in… no. He mentally slapped himself as he tore his eyes from the tattoo and focused on the burn. It was slightly to the left and above of the heart; a circle with smoke seemingly coming from it. It seemed to be fresh, the burn, but Jack couldn't figure what could have caused it.

"Alrighty then, how 'bout a name?"

The boy seemed to hesitate, but then pulled a solid silver ring off his left hand, handing it to Jack. Okay, that was weird. He still took the ring, though more than a little bit suspicious, and the moment it touched his skin, he felt the name. _Milan. Milan Kri__ž__ Janvier_. Weird name. But it was clearly not the boy's. It was beyond weird, how the ring carried not only the name, but an image as well. Jack didn't know what exactly it was, but the boy in front of him was not Milan.

What was scary though was that Jack wanted to keep the ring. He wanted to put it on his finger; to become Milan Janvier. He frowned as he threw it back at the boy.

"What _is_ that?"

Milan crouched down, scratching something in the brittle wood of the boat.

"_My… name_. Your name? That's not your name!" Jack didn't know why he said it, all he knew was that the ring was Milan Janvier, but the boy was not. Milan shrugged.

"_It is the ring's name, and I have the ring, so it is my name_. Interesting theory there, mate, but that is not your name."

Milan looked up at him and hissed again, something unintelligible in his weird language.

"_You think I don't know that?_" was written in deep, angry etching on the floor now, as those weird coppery eyes glowed with hate.

"Okay, look, lad, hating me will get you nowhere, and not talking normally also won't. So why don't you just-"

"He _can't_ talk," a high-pitched voice said from behind Jack (well, behind being outside his cell). "He's cursed- bitten by a dragon. The first few times he transformed fully, he could transform fully back, but the more he transformed into the dragon, the less he could go back to being human. The captain is getting five times his- the dragon's- weight in gold for him," the boy continued. He had to be very young, for his voice had not broken yet and there was not hair on his chin.

"And you wouldn't happen to know how, when and why I got here and what the bloody hell is going on, would ya?"

"Well, after Captain Wells sells Anu-Milan, after that, he'll sell you to the British. They have quite a price on your head, you know?"

"No I didn't know. Now how did I get here?"

The boy shrugged.

"I only got on at Port Frazier, Mr. Sparrow. And I have to get off at La Martinique, our next stop. All I know is that the captain's plan is to sail through the Mediterranean, up to Venice, then cross the Alps and sell Milan to a nobleman who lives there. After that, he plans to sail back up to London and collect the money for you."

"And you are telling me this… why?"

The boy shrugged yet again, turning his face towards Milan.

"I don't know, Mr. Sparrow. But I hope you get away. We all hate Captain Wells- he's not even a pirate anymore. Well, he used to be, but now… now, he's a bloody privateer, though he still says he's a pirate. …There's a woman who's been wanting to see you, but the captain isn't letting her. If you want, I can let her in tonight, but only for a few minutes."

"I don't have a good feeling about this," Jack muttered, still looking at the boy suspiciously. "SWhat be your name, lad?"

The boy hesitated.

"Uh… Paris. My name's Paris. And his is Milan," Paris jerked his head lightly in Milan's direction. "Yours is Jack Sparrow."

"Well then… now we all know each other's names, but you have failed to answer me questions, boy. How and when did I get in this dirt hole?"

"I told you, you were on here when I boarded in Port Frazier. That was when the _Starlight_ was three days underway, so that'd be seven days. As to the how, from what I hear, you were in a tavern on Tortuga, and someone slipped a mild poison in your drink that knocked you out for… well, 'till now. The woman who wants to see you joined the crew a few hours later, but the man you were with, the one with all the toy ships in bottles, didn't make it. She only took one; a replica of your old ship."

"You sure know a lot for having boarded four days ago, lad."

Again, Paris shrugged. It was getting slightly irritating by now.

"I hear stuff. Now- someone's coming. Act as if you're asleep, or they'll beat you to sleep. Just keep your eyes closed until after Milan's finished; they stick around 'till then," Paris said quickly, disappearing into the shadows again.

.

.

.

"Breakfast time for the monster," Jack heard a voice sneer from outside the bars. "Aw, look at him. He's angry. Ooh, I'm so scared. Haha, these bars are reinforced with copper, dragon boy. You can't escape! Now here's your food," the same voice continued, and a loud thump was heard as something fell on the ground and the footsteps got quieter, until Jack was sure they were alone again.

He opened his eyes to see Milan curled up in one of the corners, the one furthest from him (Jack), and crying. Why was he crying? Jack's eyes then wondered to the middle of Milan's cell, where a huge hunk of meat lay. Raw meat. Raw meat still half covered in skin. And bearing an arm. A human arm. They had thrown the boy a dead human to eat.

Jack's eyes wondered back to Milan, who still had tears streaming down his cheeks. Then he understood.

"You _want_ to eat that, don't you?" It was more of a statement than a question, but Milan still nodded his head slightly, and his arms crossed tighter around his stomach, as if holding himself back from jumping at the meat and devouring it.

"Ah, looky here, who's awake. Jack Sparrow, never thought I'd see ya behind bars again," the same man who had brought Milan the carcass was back with a slice of bread and some water.


	5. No Affiliations

**_This one I actually still plan on editing and writing. It's very short; I haven't been working on it for long. I decided to take a different take on the whole 'Jack has a child' cliché. It seems people enjoy giving characters daughters- well, I decided in this story, Jack's going to have a son. It would have been different- a slight tweak of originality (the plot in my head, not the idea- it's completely unoriginal). Oh well._**

Jack had never planned to be back in prison. Well, he hadn't exactly planned a lot of things in his life, but this aspect, prison, he tried to avoid the most. Okay, maybe there were things he avoided more than prison- Davy Jones' alive pets, 'old friends' who wanted him dead (not that there were many who didn't), a certain person on a certain island that a certain bloody compass had been pointing to for the past two decades (or so)… you get the picture.

But being in prison still sucked, majorly.

"And here, ah, here we have the infamous Jack Sparrow, Governor Tasker. A pirate who has an appointment with the gallows in five days," a snide voice interrupted Jack's thoughts of things he avoided more than prison. He cracked an eye open, just to immediately shut it again, trying to get the image of Patrick Ramsey out of his head. That filthy, betraying little piece of-

"Ah, yes, Captain Ramsey, I do remember. Remind me again how you caught him?"

A brief chuckle was heard, though it didn't come from Ramsey. Jack frowned; he thought he was in that prison alone. He turned his head slightly to his right, to the cell next to him, and was surprised to see a boy in there.

The kid couldn't be very old- twenty at a maximum. Probably younger. He had a cappuccino-like skin color and dark brown curly hair that hung lazily in his face, partly covering his right eye, and fell short of the base of his neck. He was wearing a loose white shirt (well, it had been white once) that was torn in several places, revealing healing wounds, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Like a lot of people did, he had on dark brown pants and boots, and an indigo sash was tied around his waist, giving him the distinct impression of being a pirate or being associated with such.

"Y'see, ol' Patty merely gave orders. It was his men that brought in him- Pat had nothing to do with it," the boy said, standing up and walking towards the bars of his cell, so he was only about a foot away from the captain and the governor.

"And who might he be, Captain?" the governor asked Ramsey, apparently disregarding what the boy had just said. Ramsey sighed.

"He, Governor, is Jacob Alexander Teach. Young yet infamous- he's barely seventeen. A pirate; he also has a face-to-face meeting with the gallows, right after Sparrow drops and stops. Well, not much of a pirate he really is. When I brought him in, he was crying, kicking, and screaming, begging me to let him go."

Jacob (if that really was his name) chuckled yet again, and leaned his head back, so he was staring at the silvery patch of moonlight that was let in through the tiny window.

"That is one way to put it, Ricky, the other way is that you saw a flagless ship, therefore assumed it was a pirate ship and entered. Upon finding no one there, you assumed- again, too many assumptions- that the crew was on land, so you sent out a search party, who captured anyone who looked remotely suspicious. Then, later, you saw a boy stealing a bag of fruit. Naturally, anyone who steals fruit is a pirate, so you had him arrested, even though the boy had nothing left, was starving, and just wanted something to bring home to his mother, a'ight?" Jacob's head snapped back to look Ramsey in the eye.

"Captain Ramsey, is what Mr. Teach says true?" The governor asked, clearly shocked. Ramsey rolled his eyes, though the anger at Jacob was blatant on his face.

"Of course not, Governor Tasker. He is a pirate. They never tell the truth. They _always_ lie. _Always_," he hissed, looking at Jacob through narrowed eyes, but the latter just shrugged.

"Y'know, if I may interrupt, pirates don't _always_ lie," Jack interrupted, strolling through his cell over to the corner of the other.

"And what would you know about honesty, Sparrow? Your whole life, I can recall no one who said you told the truth. Largely from the female population though, no doubt." Ramsey smirked at Jack thinking he had won.

"You've been talking to Scarlett and Giselle, 'aven't you?" Jack grinned. "That means you've been to Tortuga, mate. Oh wait, I forgot. You were born and raised there."

Ignoring Jack's last statement, Ramsey continued.

"Oh yes, Scarlett and Giselle, both respectable women you lied to. I also recall rumors of a certain woman whose life you saved and then abandoned. Angelica was the name, wasn't it?" Ramsey seemed smug as he talked, and whatever Jack had been about to say stuck in his throat. It had been odd, the occurrences at Angelica's name. Jacob had visibly frozen and his head turned to face Ramsey, and the weird thing was, exactly that had been Jack's reaction too.

"Well, if Scarlett and Giselle are respectable women, then the rumor about Angel- the captain's daughter isn't true, savvy?" he replied, seemingly satisfied, as he lay back down and closed his eyes. Ramsey huffed and turned around, the governor close at his heels. It was a few seconds after they had left that Jacob spoke.

"Scarlett and Giselle aren't respectable women, are they?" the boy's voice sounded through the humid air of the prison. Jack let out a breath of air before turning his face to the boy who was now standing at the bars separating their cells.

"Well, that depends on your definition of respectable, lad."

"Any version."

"Well then no, they are in no way respectable women."

"So the rumor about you and the woman he mentioned is true."

"Now _that_ really depends on your definition of 'saving a life' and 'abandoning,' boy."

"You make no sense."

"Well, wouldn't be Cap'n Jack Sparrow if I did, lad."

Jacob snorted and turned away, sitting down in the corner furthest from Jack, leaning back and closing his eyes. But there was something that had sparked Jack's attention when the boy's name had been said. Jacob Alexander Teach. Teach. Sure, it could be a coincidence; Teach was probably a common name. But a common name amongst pirates? Hardly.

"Your last name. Where'd it come from?" Jack questioned. Jacob shrugged, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Your name, where'd _that_ come from? We all have last names, Sparrow. Mine's Teach. Yours is Sparrow. Obviously." Unfortunately for Jacob, to Jack it was quite obvious said boy was lying. But, since Jack didn't have enough rum in him, he decided to let it go. It was then that Jacob spoke again.

"You think I carry Blackbeard's last name because I think it's cool, don't you?"

Jack sat up, turning his head to face the boy.

"I don't. I was born with names I could use in several occasions. One was Jacob Alexander Teach. The other was… well, was something else. As to what my last name concerns, all I know is that I am related to Blackbeard in some way. This is actually the name I hate the most. I only use it when I'm caught."

"And what would be the name you usually go by, lad?"

Jacob narrowed his eyes.

"As far as you're concerned, my name is Jacob Teach, a'ight?" There was a certain venom in Jacob's voice as he spoke, and it was quite clear that the conversation- had there ever been a real one- was over. Jacob closed his eyes again and leaned his head against the wall once more, as Jack lay back down on the floor, an icy silence fell between them.

Later that night, Jack started hearing voices. At first, he thought he was imagining them (wouldn't be the first time), but then he figured he didn't control what they were saying. Naturally, he assumed it was only Jacob talking to himself, having gone mad with claustrophobia probably, but that theory was also thrown out the window when a female voice talked back.

"What the bloody hell took you so long?" he heard Jacob hiss at someone apparently outside the cell.

"Hey, it wasn't easy getting past the guards, Rose!" A quiet rattling was heard from the cell door, as if someone was trying to open it.

"But… you're a girl!"

"Oh, well noticed!"

"Couldn't you just get past them with your… girl stuff?"

"Girl stuff?" The girl questioned.

"You know, all… that," Jacob replied, and Jack cracked an eye open to see Jacob standing at the cell door, gesturing (quite obviously) at the girl's chest. Said girl smirked.

"Right, I'll use all this to get past the female guard on duty," she replied, her hands still working on the door.

"Female guards? Since when?" Jacob seemed shocked.

"No clue, Rose. But don't worry; I got Jani to help me. I don't think he minded talking to some women in uniforms. There, done," she said as the cell door sprung upon.

"If I knew how to say thank you in Dutch, I would," Jacob grinned.

"_Dank u_," the girl said.

"Yeah, whatever. Let's go, I am not staying here any longer."

"Wait, Rose. Who's he?" the girl suddenly stopped Jacob (whom the girl was calling Rose for some odd reason) and jerked her head towards Jack. Jacob frowned.

"Just… he's uh… he annoys me, let's leave him here." Jacob muttered, grabbing a sword that was hanging on the wall and starting towards the exit.

"Wait… he annoys you?" the girl asked.

"Yes," Jacob hissed, "now let's go!"

"No, he annoys you, he's coming with us," the girl (what the hell was her name?) stated, making her way towards Jack's cell door.

"Felipa, no!" Jacob whined, but the girl, Felipa, simply turned back around to face him.

"Rosalio, yes!" she simply said back at him before turning back to the cell door. "You, in there, what's your name?" she asked Jack, not taking her eyes off the lock.

"He's Jack Sparrow," Jacob- Rose- spoke from the shadows.

"Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow, boy," Jack corrected him.

"Ah. Well, Captain Sparrow, pleasure to meet you, but I don't think we should stick around here for much longer. Come on."


	6. No Affiliations: Breaking Free

**Looks like I will be continuing this... weird.**

Jack followed Jacob (or was he supposed to call him Rosalio or Rose?) and Felipa out of the prison (well, it was hard not to, as Felipa had handcuffed him to Jacob, saying something about him annoying Jacob so it was a punishment or so) by climbing through a window at the side. Outside, he was pushed roughly into a stone wall, along with Jacob, into the shadows. It was dark there, but Jack could see the entrance to the prison still lit up, with a tall figure talking to two smaller ones, obviously enjoying themselves.

Felipa frowned.

"Rose, any ideas of getting Jani away?"

Jacob also frowned, but shook his head. Suddenly, Felipa's eyes lit up. She smiled.

"Rose, I'll need your boots," she said, looking a bit impatiently at Jacob.

"Why-"

"And this," she continued, loosening the dark blue sash from Jacob's waist. Said boy grinned, a cocky smile.

"Felipa, if you want me naked, just say so," he smiled, earning himself a sharp knee to the groin as Felipa turned around, the boots in one hand and the sash in the other. "She so wants me."

"Keep tellin' yourself that, mate, and one day it might come true," Jack chuckled. Jacob simply glared at him but remained silent.

A few minutes later, Felipa came back, still buttoning up her shirt. She looked… different. Well, she looked like a boy. Her boots had been replaced with Jacob's, and the sash had obviously been used to tie around her chest. The shirt she had on now hung loosely off her person and was tucked in to her pants, which had been pulled ever-so-slightly lower to give them a more baggy appearance. The only problem left was her hair. Though braided, it still hung halfway down her back, and a few strands were loose and she had bangs hanging in her face, giving her a distinct feminine impression.

She paused in front of Jack and Jacob, finishing buttoning up the shirt. Without asking, she grabbed Jack's hat off his head and placed it on hers. As Jack tried to protest, she glared at him pointedly, then looked at the guards and back at him.

"You must have one hollow head," she hissed, stuffing her braid under the hat as well. "Can I borrow a belt? Thanks!" and before he knew it, one of Jack's belts had been pulled off his person, letting a pistol drop to the ground. Quickly, she secured it around her own waist, then threw the leather corset-like thingy she had been wearing earlier at Jacob, who caught it with a pleased expression on his face. "You do _not_ get to keep that, Rose. Kneel."

Jacob pouted a bit, but did as commanded, kneeling down in front of the girl, and pulling Jack's right arm down with him (ah bugger, they were _still_ cuffed together). Felipa placed her feet not-so-gently on Jacob's shoulders, and stood up straight, leaning slightly against the wall for support. At her command, Jacob stood back up, though it was obvious the boy was struggling.

"What the bloody hell do you weigh, girl?" Jacob hissed, earning himself the pleasure of a foot stomping on his head.

"That, mate, you never ask a girl," Jack recommended, to which Jacob snarled and kicked his shin, threatening to fall over, and finding his balance quickly again. Felipa climbed back through the window they had escaped, and Jack and Jacob were left alone. "You wouldn't happen to have any oil or sharp but thin objects within your reach, would ya lad?"

Jacob chuckled, and Jack suddenly realized that it was the first time Jacob's chuckling hadn't been dark or sarcastic towards him.

"You think Flipper didn't think of that? Nah, mate, anything I could use to get out of these is securely in one of her pockets. But…" he paused, his eyes falling on the pistol that had fallen from Jack's belt. "That thing loaded?" Jack nodded, and Jacob smiled, picking it up.

"Won't that make a lot of noise?"

Jacob shrugged, and turned his head towards the entrance. Any minute now, they were supposed to see Felipa's way to get this 'Jani' character away from the female guards. Through the quietness came a call from inside the building and they could see Felipa run out.

"Hey! I heard a noise from the weapons room. The lock was broken! I think someone broke in!"

The guards immediately ran inside the building, and Felipa pulled the tall figure away, towards them.

"Now," Jack hissed and Jacob obliged, shooting through the metal chain linking their wrists.

"Finally," they said simultaneously as Felipa and Jani reached them. Jani was taller than all three of them (Jack not being particularly tall himself, though he definitely had a taller appearance), with pale skin and dark brown hair, and was grinning from ear to ear.

"Ugh, you had to make that much noise, didn't you?" Felipa glared at Jacob, who just shrugged.

"Not like you left me with anything to pick the lock," he defended himself.

"Of course I did," Felipa shot right back.

"Of course you- what?"

Felipa rolled her eyes and picked up the boots she had left with Jacob and Jack- her boots. Turning them upside down and opening a tiny latch in the sole, she pulled out several short metal strips and handed them to Jacob.

"I have got to remember that," Jacob spoke as Felipa put her boots back on and tossed Jacob his boots. "You wouldn't happen to be able to give me back my sash, would ya?" he grinned cockily. Felipa looked at her corset that was still in Jacob's hands.

"Put that on, it'd suit ya a lot better, _schat_. Now let's go; they probably heard the gunshot. Sparrow, you coming?"

Even though he had in no way planned on following the young people as they started running towards the docks, he did so anyway, not fancying the idea of prison _again_. But was going with them really such a wise idea? Well, he didn't stop to think about it, and since when did he care whether his ideas were wise or not anyway? So, with those thoughts running around in his head, he sprinted after the running people, until he was, for the second time that night, pushed roughly into a stone wall.

"You 'ave got to stop doing that, lass," he shot at Felipa, who had done the same thing to Jacob and Jani.

"Shut up, Sparrow," Jacob hissed, clearly annoyed.

"I hate agreeing with him, but Rose's right. Zip it!" Felipa muttered, but upon noticing Jacob's smug face, she glared at him. "_You too_. Jani, where did you say you hid the boat?"

Jani pointed at a small longboat tied to the end of a short pier.

"That thing is supposed to get us back to the _Angel_? Ugh, why did I have to send for _you_ to come?"

Jani frowned at her.

"Hey, this was the best one I could find. Ugh, I miss the _Reckless_."

"Don't we all?" Jacob added. "But by now they'll have noticed prisoners missing. We cannot just row out into the open water!"

"Y'know… I have this idea, but it will require all of you to shut up for just five minutes, savvy?" Jack spoke, ducking and hurrying over to the longboat. Jani followed him without second thoughts, but Felipa hesitated, only going when Jacob briefly nodded, placing his hand on her back and ducking.

"I have this sneaking suspicion we're all going to get wet," Jacob whispered as Jack untied the longboat and dragged it towards the beach, where he turned it upside down.

"Everyone under here," he called quietly over to them.

_Okay_, Jacob thought, _the man is completely crazy_. But he still did as he was told, not liking the idea of prison again either.

**And it looks like after one week of being away, I have lost all inspiration for this. Will be starting another story shortly- slightly similar to this one. Theme is sort of the same.**


	7. Arctic Ice

**...And yet another story I am starting and may likely not finish.**

Jack frowned as he peered down the long line of sailors who were trying to become part of his crew. He already regretted telling Gibbs to go get some rum- recruiting was _not_ a captain's job. He turned back to the man in front of him- a middle aged man with a twitch in his right eyebrow that was annoying Jack to hell and back.

"So tell me, Finley, again, why would I want someone like you on me ship?"

"W-well, sir, I, well, I, uh, I've been s-sailing the seas a-all m-my life a-and I'm a, I'm a good add-addition," the man, Finley, responded. Apparently his eyebrow wasn't the only thing that would be annoying Jack. Therefore, shortly coming to a decision, Jack spoke.

"Nope, no deal. Next!"

Jack looked down at his empty jug of rum- blast Gibbs, where was that two-legged pig? What could possibly be taking him to darn long? He looked back up, and instantly, his eyes narrowed. Standing in front of him was a cloaked and hooded figure, not too tall, and fairly thin. The hood hid their face, and the cloak was drawn tightly around their clothes, revealing nothing.

A hand reached out from the cloak, delivering Jack a small piece of paper, and casually dropping it in front of Jack, before turning. With a swish of the cloak, the mysterious person was gone. Jack frowned yet again, thinking of people or things that could have been under the cloak. Picking up the paper but still keeping it at a safe distance, he unfolded it. Upon it were written two words.

_Piotr Novak_

Jack's head shot up as his eyes started scanning the tavern, flicking madly from one end to the other, trying to find the cloaked figure. His eyes spotted the swish of the end of it as the person made their way through the tavern. He stood up, briefly glancing around for Gibbs. Luckily, the first mate was already on his way back, so, as quickly as was possible if you're Jack Sparrow, Jack followed the person. He could not let them get away, and he knew it.

Outside, the person had taken to running, and damn, they were fast. And they didn't seem to have stopping in mind- Jack silently cursed whoever it was. Finally, at the edge of town, where the boats were docked, the person stopped. Panting, Jack ran up behind them, doubled over, trying to regain his breath.

"Peter?" he asked through his heavy breathing, squinting up at the figure.

"Piotr Novak is dead, Jack Sparrow," the person- determinedly male- spoke, not taking the cloak off, not facing Jack. Regaining his breath, Jack stood up straight and fixated the person.

"Then who might you be, boy?"

Finally, the boy turned around, letting the cloak drop from his shoulders. Jack's eyes widened slightly.

"Peter?" he asked again, convinced for a second that Piotr Novak was standing in front of him. But when he studied the boy, he figured it couldn't be Piotr, except for maybe if said man had shrunk considerably in height and lost round hundred pounds.

"My name is Vinter Novak, Mr. Sparrow. I am the son- a son- of Piotr Novak. I am the only child who stayed true to him."

"Winter?" Jack asked. The boy snarled.

"Vinter, Sparrow. My name is Vinter," he growled at Jack through his thickly accented voice.

"Alright, alright then, Vinter. What can I do ya for?"

"Take me and my few companions aboard your ship. Give me a ride back to Mikhailgrad."

Jack snorted.

"And why would I do that, boy? I owe nothing to you or your father, therefore-"

"Yet you followed me at the written name of him," Vinter spat. "Don't think I'm happy about asking you for help Sparrow, but dare I say it, you are my only hope."

"Okay, first off, that I followed you didn't mean anything, and secondly, why can't you just get back the way you came?"

It was Vinter's turn to snort.

"The way I came? It looks like I'll have to tell you the whole story." He paused, then sat down on the rotting wood. "Sit," he spoke, looking up at Jack. Though he knew he had better things to do, the story of Piotr Novak's death did interest Jack a little, and he sat down across from the boy.

"Alright then. Speak and I will probably still not agree to your terms."

"Listen. My father knew this was coming. That was when he gave his last speech to the pirates of the north, proclaiming his death wishes. His last wish was that I be named Pirate Lord of the Arctic if he died. That was when I knew something was wrong. Later that day, we set sail, all of us. My eldest brother Sergej, my second-to-oldest brother Luka, my older sister Mila, my younger sister Bjala, my other Ayushna, my father and me.

'About two days underway, my father had me summoned. He told me to climb over the edge of the ship, around to the front, and hide there. When land was in reachable swimming distance, I was to jump off and swim to safety. But, well, you've met me before. Remember what happened when he told me not to climb that tree?"

"Yes, as I recall, you climbed it, jumped off and broke your leg," Jack recalled, shivering slightly as the then still young Vinter's screams of pain echoed through his head.

"Well, yes, amongst others, I also did break me leg."

"Amongst others?"

"I shattered my knee, broke three fingers, two toes and I cracked my spine."

"And you're still alive mate?"

Vinter fixated Jack with a glare.

"No, I'm just pretending! Yes of course I'm alive. But this is all beside the point. I have never been one to listen to my father. Actually, I always purposely do the opposite. I hated my father- he was always, _always_, spending time with Sergej and Luka. Never with me. Anyway, I didn't climb over the side of the _Blazhenny Dushi_. I hid in my father's cabin. That was when it started. Sergej and Luka entered, flanking Bjala, Mila and Ayushna. While my brothers held my father down, my sisters got his mouth open, and my mother poured the poison down his throat.

'At first, I didn't know what was happening, but when I heard English voices mixing in with those of our sailors, I figured it out. My family, minus my father and me, had sold us out to the British, who want control of the Arctic badly."

"So why don't they just take it, ey? I mean, you're over here, with no means of getting back whatsoever. For all they know, you could be dead."

Vinter snorted yet again.

"They could try. But it would be a fool's attempt. The pirates there will have heard of my father's death by now. But they do not trust my family- except my father. Yes, they trusted him. And when he told them that if he dies, I will become Pirate Lord, they trusted me. Unless my siblings can produce a body, the whole population of up there will still be loyal to me. And attempt to win them over by force or flattery will not work. They need a Lord and they know it."

"You still haven't convinced me, lad."


	8. Reckless

From what Dima heard from his mother, she had loved his father, deeply. But from what she told her son, he could also tell that somewhere, she hated the man with a burning passion. Dima knew he hated his father, for he had abandoned them, making Dima a bastard child and giving his mother no chance in a normal society. But, then again, what was he to expect? Even though his mother had never directly said it, he knew from the stories she told two things: his father was a pirate, and his mother used to be one too.

Growing up, his mother had been a quieter, more subdued woman. She was still sad and angry, and let those frustrations out when she thought he wasn't looking. But the six-year-old saw more than his mother thought. He saw her go into the woods with her sword, hacking at trees for hours, using techniques he had never seen; that she had never taught him. Sure, she had taught him to handle a sword to a point where he was one of the best on the island, but these techniques were for real.

At about age six and a half, he started waiting for those moments, yes, even longing for them. He'd follow his mother in secret, and watch her closely. His eyes would never leave her; they were catching every slash, strike, duck, every step and move, and burning them into his mind. Later, he'd take his own sword into the woods, and practice the moves like he had seen them, practicing them to a point of perfection.

When Dima was seven, and a lot more experienced in sword fighting, life took a turn for the better, for Christopher came along. Christopher was a year or two older than Dima's mother, and he loved her like a wife and he loved Dima like a son. He was good for them- a steady source of income, and, for the first time ever really, Dima saw his mother happy. She let herself be free around Chris; she laughed and joked. For a few precious years, everything seemed to be perfect.

A year later, Chris had to leave on an expedition. It was a sad time for all of them, for two months earlier, Dima had gotten a baby sister- Amelia. Chris had cried at the departure, holding his daughter tightly one last time, before pulling Dima in tightly as well, as if it didn't matter that he was from another man; Chris would always see Dima as his own, even though he barely knew Dima's full name- Dimas Santiago Teach.

Chris came back when Dima was ten- two years later, and it would be the last time Dima would ever see his father, as he called Chris. His _papascha, _as the young boy would say, having picked up the word from one of the Russian merchants' sons, who made port every now and then at the trade island. Chris saw his daughter, son, and wife, as he called her, for the last time before departing. Three days underway, a hurricane struck, and his ship sunks along with him went down.

The following years shaped Dima to who he became later on. He noticed he had grown soft in the time Chris was around, he noticed how much of a stupid little kid he had been, frightened of the world and everything beyond the woods on the west part of the island. He became a quiet boy, disappearing into the woods for hours, sometimes days, at a time. He made new friends, darker people, with more power on the island than the richest merchants who lived there.

He provided for his family- bringing them home food and drink from the most dangerous parts of the woods. His mother knew of the activities her son was doing, but didn't stop him, as much as her motherly instincts longed to do. Dima was now the man of the family, and if he stopped providing for them, their chances of survival would be down to zero.

A few months before his eleventh birthday, Dima was taken up into a clan of thieves. By that time, the little town they had run around in as children had turned into a bustling port city- Port Frazier. The children knew the streets better than anyone, having run down them and played on them as they expanded over the years.

Dima was marked the pickpocket by a tattoo in the hollow of his left elbow- a crescent moon and a sitting cat. Over the left half of the tattoo, partly covering the moon, was a four pointed star- with two ends longer than the others. This was Cruz' symbol, and it meant that Dima, no matter what, as long as he still had the tattoo, was Cruz' pickpocket. And, oddly enough, it was beneficial. Even though Dima and Cruz had a mutual understanding that they hated each other, they knew each other better than anyone else.

They were dangerous; everyone knew it, but only few dared say it. Dima and Cruz, along with a few other teenagers, namely Jakuba- Kuba-, Roxana and Elena, were the five most respected but feared people among the dirty side of Port Frazier- the thieving, lying, pirating side. Of course, up in the north of the island, past the wall that unofficially marked the rich from the poor district, no one knew of them, and should they ever set foot past the wall and be caught, alone for their tattoos they would be hanged.

And it was simple. Life was simple for Dima- get up before the sun rises (sometimes not even come home), steal some food from a bakery in the rich district if they had run out of bread, then stay around until his mother woke up. When she cracked her eyes open he'd disappear out the back of the house, either to the woods or the city. He'd always meet Kuba first and they'd share the loot from the previous nights, deciding what to keep and what to give to Cruz. He'd stay out all day, and only come back in the evening to say goodnight to Amelia and for his mother to see he was still alive. His mother knew not to worry too much if he didn't make it one evening, but he still tried.

In the evenings was when Kuba and Dima, along with Roxana if they needed some female persuasion, would go on thieving trips. More often than not, they'd go into the woods afterwards, well actually, they went through the woods, to the cliffs on the west of the island. There, there was a small cottage that a woman and her three children lived in. She was an outlaw, having been sent into exile under the threat of death should anyone find her, and she had taken the gang under her wing.

They protected her in exchange for some hospitality- shelter when needed. Anja was her name, and her children were Tamino, Bjala and Winter- two boys and a girl, who considered the gang their brothers and sisters. The people of the town avoided her, which neither she nor the gang minded, each taking it to their own advantages.

It was simple. Too simple. And it all ended when a ship with black sails made port.

Dima woke up after sunrise on the morning the _Black Pearl_ made port in Port Frazier. It was a day off for him, having been gone for three days previously on a mission for Cruz. His gaze turned from the window that the sun was shining through, and to the delicate form of a girl sleeping next to him. He smiled faintly at the memory of the previous evening- him asking for a bed to sleep in for the night and some food in return for several shillings.

The man who had let him in had made the mistake of leaving him alone with his daughter- a pretty girl about a year younger than Dima himself, and very easily seduced. Dima's smile turned into a small frown as he remembered that he had to get back to Cruz before midday in order to be let to his mother and sister, who were surely waiting for him. Quickly and quietly, he dressed himself, grabbed the satchel with his loot, and climbed out the window.

Once on the ground, he took off in a sprint, realizing where he was. Of course, with his luck, he had landed in the house of Tobiasz Pruchezka, one of the richest merchants in Port Frazier. He had no clue that the merchant was such a nice man, or that he had such a beautiful daughter, but that would all have changed once his brandings and such were clear. His thoughts jumbled together as he kept on down the streets, always downhill, and always a bit ducked so that the guards would see him.

At what Dima estimated to be around eight in the morning, he ended up at the edge of the woods, to find Kuba waiting for him already. Kuba was short but a packet of muscle. The boy could probably lift a house if he wanted to, were Dima's thoughts, and he had even considered asking Kuba that on several occasions, but had never gotten around to it.

"You are late, Reckless," Kuba frowned at him, using the nickname Dima had earned over the years they had known each other, and that effectively was also his codename. Kuba's nickname, in accordance with Dima's, was Madcap.

"Got caught up with some issue or another," Dima shrugged, not particularly wanting to discuss the last night's events with his friend. But said boy grinned knowingly, revealing a row of sharper-than-usual teeth- due to bad care and chipping and hard food over the years.

"What's the lucky lady's name that held the attraction of Dimas Teach for more than ten minutes?" he joked, poking fun at Dima's tendency to be distracted easily.

Dima opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck in his throat as his mind, only now fully awake, pieced pieces together. Tobiasz Pruchezka. How could he have been so stupid? He knew full and well that the merchant had lost his son ten years ago- his first and only, by the name of Jakuba Pruchezka. Dima was the only person Kuba had trusted this secret to, but even with his friend's trust, Dima did not feel comfortable telling Kuba that he had slept with his sister.

"Oh, you don't even remember the name… Dima, I couldn't be more proud of ya, mate, maybe you're a rowdy and manner-less little miscreant after all!" Kuba sounded absolutely positive about the whole thing, so much that even Dima cracked a small smile.

"I guess I am."

They walked in silence after that, all the way to the Hollow, which was the gang's lair. It was entered through a hollow tree, where you got inside and climbed up into the crown. Up there, you clambered along the branches pointing west, until they hit rocks. Dima and Kuba climbed these rocks to the top, and, after only a few minutes, found themselves on the highest point of the island, and Cruz standing in front of them, his ever-permanent scowl present.

Cruz was an intimidating character. He was tall with a muscular frame, black eyes darker than his hair, and an aura of authority. He was rarely seen smiling, especially around the gang, and never in front of Dima. But only Dima and himself knew the real reason for this- the binding secret that kept them from going at each other's necks. It was what Dima had to remind himself every time he saw the gang leader, in order to stop himself from harming the slightly older boy.

_The one thing he hates more than me is himself._

"Reckless. Madcap. I see you're not dead. Where is the loot?" Yup, that was Cruz. Straight to the point, as always.

Kuba and Dima set their satchels in front of Cruz, not unwillingly; they both grudgingly respected the leader, and somewhere, both knew they could do nothing with the treasure. If they tried to trade it or sell it, people would know where it came from and they would be arrested, for the only people who had enough money to buy the items off them were the people they had stolen them from. Well, those people, and pirates, but the latter hadn't been sighted in a long time.

"I sense you have a question, Reckless. Go ahead, ask," Cruz said, not looking up from the treasure his hands were sifting through. At one point he chuckled slightly, but said nothing else.

"This is a lot of treasure, Cruz. I cannot help but wonder how you or Anja are going to sell any of this."

"Mhm… there are rumors, Reckless. Confirmed rumors, actually," Cruz stated, straightening up again, both his fists clenched around something from the loot; the pay for Dima and Kuba. "A notorious pirate ship is docking here this evening. The _Black Pearl_. I expect to be selling to them. Now for both of your rewards."

Cruz stuck out his arms and opened his hands- one to each Dima and Kuba. Kuba grinned as he picked up the crucifix pendant and slipped it onto the leather band around his neck from which hung at least five other crucifixes. Dima stared down onto Cruz' palm in front of him, only seeing a ring lying there.

The ring was definitely something new. It was solid silver from what Dima could tell, and had a skull-and-bones motif, but not the one he usually saw. This time, the intricate skull was surrounded by miniature bones on each side, molded together to form the round part of the ring where his finger went through. Tiny but beautiful patterns had been carved into the actual skull, and inside the open mouth, seemingly held in by miniscule silver teeth, was an emerald, polished.

Dima took the ring, turning it over in his hand, looking at it from every different angle. An apparent scratch on the inside of the ring caught his eye, and he brought it up to his eye to inspect closely. As he saw what it was, he couldn't help but chuckle just as Cruz had done earlier. There, in the inside of the ring, was written 'Reckless' in slanted cursive.

Dima nodded in approval, not letting Cruz know of the smile that wanted to form on his lips. As he turned to go once more, a call stopped him.

"Dima!" he spun around to see Cruz looking up at him from the treasure again, something small lying in his hand. "Does- does your little sister still like horses?"

Dima nodded, making his way silently back to Cruz, who handed him a small pendant- a galloping horse. This time Dima let himself smile in front of Cruz, who also gave a small grin, both of them briefly remembering the time when Amelia had spoken her first word- 'horse'. That was when Dima was eight and Cruz was nine, and they were sword-fighting buddies.

"I'll give it to her," Dima finally said as he took off once more, not really wishing to be in Cruz' presence much longer.

"Dima!" Dima couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as he heard the high-pitched cry from the little girl running towards him. Her dirty blond hair was braided loosely down her back, and strands were coming loose left and right, but unlike the girls in the rich district would have, she didn't mind.

"_Hola, mí princesa_," Dima murmured as he hugged his little sister tightly. Said girl giggled.

"If I am _princesa_, _eres_ you _mí príncipe_?" she asked him through in a mix of Spanish and English, still too young to tell the difference. Dima chuckled.

"I am still your _hermano_, Amelia. Now where is _tú madre_?"

"Mama _está_ in la kitchen," Amelia answered. "But there is _algo_ wrong. _Ella_ is _muy_ quiet. More than usual."

Dima frowned but said nothing, getting up and taking Amelia's hand, and walking towards the door of the little house they lived in. He had a sneaking suspicion that his mother's quietness had something to do with the confirmed rumor that Cruz had told him about earlier. About the pirates.

As Dima and Amelia entered the kitchen, Amelia let go of his hand, running to the small wooden table and sitting on her poorly carved chair. Dima merely stood in the doorway a little longer, letting his gaze find his mother. She had her back to him, but it was visible by the way her muscles had tensed slightly that she knew he was there. It was obvious to him what she wanted: she wanted an explanation. She wanted to know he was really there, not just a hallucination; she wanted to know he was alive.

"Hello, Angelica," he finally said, using his mother's real name. To him, it was weird and just plan awkward calling her 'mama', 'mother' or 'mum'.

Angelica spun around, her hair falling in front of her shoulder in the process, to look at her son. Her eyes scanned over him, briefly staying on the scratch along his jawline, but moving on over his face. It was odd, she found, that even though Dima's voice resembled that of his father's more and more as he grew up, he looked nothing like the man. Somewhere, she was proud that her traits had been dominant, but somewhere, she was disappointed. Disappointed, sad, and angry, that _he_ hadn't left her with anything, _anything_, but the voice.

"Dima."

The name escaped her lips in a whisper as her son came forwards to hug her.

… **that was long. I planned on writing another part, which involved Dima trying to steal Jack's compass, and Jack ending up shooting a hole through his ear, and a bunch of other stuff, but I have no clue when or how or why I'd be writing that.**


	9. Deals Made in Prison 1

"Filthy pirate!"

"Look, a pirate!"

"Filthy piece of shit if you ask me."

"Isn't that Iggy Adder?"

"Slap me thrice, I think it is!"

"Oi people it's Adder, they've caught Adder!"

"Adder."

"Iggy Adder."

The shouts and cries pierced Iggy's mind from all around as he was led through the streets of Port Augustus, to the prison. By the time he had gotten to the main street, word had spread around that he was captured, and he was blinking tears away. It didn't get better, he repeated in his mind, over and over again, it doesn't get better.

Oh, he didn't feel guilty for all the killing he did. He didn't feel guilty for the lives he ruined, for the few broken hearts he left behind, for stealing other men's possessions. What always got him was that wherever he made port, he was hated. He had no friends but a million enemies, each eager to kill him. When he had run away from home, at age six, he thought being a pirate was the best thing ever.

But now, eleven years later, he thought it might be best to reshuffle his priorities. Maybe become a doctor. The human body had always fascinated him. But then his mind reeled at the thought of his ship, the _Van Trixen_, sailing away, without him. He couldn't imagine life on land. No, he'd rather be dead than not aboard his _Trixen_.

Now he was at the prison, and covered in blood. People had been throwing anything they could find- stones, knives, cabbages… and the guards had let them. He was shoved into a prison cell, falling down, and not moving, his eyes closed, stinging from the blood that was trying to worm its way into them from a scratch on his forehead. He lay there, still, unmoving, for what seemed to be eternity, until he felt something poke his chest.

"Ey?" he muttered, not opening his eyes. His chest heaved slightly at the effort it took to speak, hurting him.

"Ah, you're alive," a gruff voice answered. Judging by the accent and the roughness of the voice, Iggy deducted that this was not a prison guard, but a fellow inmate.

"No shit," Iggy commented, his brow furrowing. Immediately, he regretted it, and let out a small gasp of pain. "Damn it," the curse escaped his lips.

"You should probably get that looked at, mate," the same rough voice said. Damn that voice, it was getting on his nerves already.

"Looked at, right," Iggy managed to say between shallow breaths. "And 'ow d'you suggest I do that, ey?"

"Well, I was going to say, ask the bloody guard."

"Huh. You're not stupid," Iggy stated, and as a response got a snort and a chuckle.

"'M Cap'n Jack Sparrow, lad, what'cha expect?"

Iggy's eyebrows jerked upwards.

"Jack Sparrow, eh? Iggy Adder. Though… in my current state of body and mind, can't say 'm pleased to meet ya."

"Eh, most people I meet in prison aren't," Sparrow responded, at which Iggy chuckled as much as his stinging lungs allowed.

"Meet most people in prison?"

"Nope, just idiots and eunuchs. You're not a eunuch, right? 'Cause I'd hate to sail round the world, go to Davy Jones's locker and all that stuff to get ye your bonny murderess."

"I have the distinct impression you've done all that before, Sparrow."

"Well… if you put it that way…."

"Err… just a question, what was that about a murderess?"

"Long story, lad. Don't think you'll be 'live by th'end of it."

"'Live. Nope, no good. Not dying in prison, it's the one thing I promised Antony."

"An-who?"

"Antony. My br- a friend. Good friend. Dead."

"That's an odd promise." Jack sounded deep in thought.

"What is?"

"That you won't die in prison."

"Right, about that," Iggy started, propping himself up on his elbows and wincing in pain, opening his eyes and scanning the area. "Should pro'lly do somethin' bout that."

His eyes landed on a guard.

"Bingo," he muttered under his breath. "Oi, you, guard!" he shouted over at the guard.

"M-Me?"

"No, the invisible person next to you! Yes, you. Have I ever done something to ye personally? Somethin' that hit home?"

He heard another chuckle from beside him, and turned his head to face the chuckler. It was the man who said to be Jack Sparrow, sitting on a stone bench about a meter away. His gaze directed back at the guard and recoiled slightly, finding the guard right at the bars of the cell, glaring at him with the most evil he could muster.

"You stole my sister's innocence and then murdered her," the guard snarled. Iggy got a look of shock on his face.

"Stole her… murdered… doesn't sound like me, mate. What was 'er name?"

"Z-Zoe."

"Zoe… Zoe… Zoe… sorry, doesn't ring a bell. Maybe last name?"

"Hightower. Zoe Hightower."

"Hightower… oh, yeah, now I remember! Quite a beautiful sister ye had there, mate. But I did not murder her, let me clarify. And I'm guessing you're the brother she talked about…" Iggy trailed off, looking at the guard.

"Taylor," the guard muttered, apparently uncomfortable with the harsh look he was being treated to.

"Right, Taylor it is then. Well, Taylor, with me wounds here, I'll die before the hanging, and you don't want that, do you? If you get me a doctor and sew me up and all that stuff, it will be very painful for me, and I'll be in a non-dying condition when it comes to the hanging. So, get me a doctor, Taylor?"

Taylor rolled his eyes, but walked away anyway, towards the exit. Iggy released his elbows and thudded back to the floor, groaning as his head hit the stone.

"Ouch…" he muttered, his eyes closed again. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he turned his head and opened his eyes, looking up at Jack. "Yes?"

Jack seemed slightly taken aback, but quickly recovered.

"Did you really…?"

"Steal her innocence and then murder her? Nah, I did neither. Didn't even have a clue who he was talking about," Iggy smirked. "But I'm getting out. Of this prison, I don't intend on staying here past my surgery."

Jack paused for a second.

"I'm havin' this proposition, lad," he finally said. Iggy raised his eyebrows but said nothing, gesturing Jack to continue. "But first I'll be needin' to know- do you have a ship?"

Iggy let out a breath of air and frowned.

"Technically, 'm captain of the _Van Trixen_, but I guess they've sailed on without me by now."

"Well then, young Mister Adder, I do have a proposition of sorts. You get us both out of here, and I take you aboard me ship as part of th'crew. Drop ye off at Tortuga, what say you to that?"

Iggy seemed to think about it.

"Drop me off at Shipwreck Cove. Then we have a deal."

Now it was Jack's turn to contemplate the bargain. Though he didn't seem very happy with it, he held out his hand and Iggy shook it.

"I guess we have an accord then. So, when they come to get me, you'll need to do some unkind things to Mister Hightower. In other words, kill him and then take his uniform, or the other way around, either way. Ye don't even have to kill him, just get his uniform and be him. You will be my escort to the chamber where they'll sew me up, and the minute they're done, we get rid of them. You'll escort me out and we'll be free men."

Jack nodded, then got a sly grin on his face.

"And what were to happen if I just, say, slipped off during surgery and didn't come back, eh?"

"Well, just in case that does happen," Iggy muttered, his hand shooting out from his side. Jack felt a tug at his belt, and it took him a second to realize that Iggy was not, in fact, taking the belt (which would have been a disaster), but something else. The bloody compass.

"I've heard stories about this. And you seem to be very close to it, so I'll be keeping it until you drop me off at Shipwreck Cove, got it?"

Jack glared at the boy but didn't say anything else, for the footsteps of the guard returning were heard.

"Alright, Adder, we've got you your doctor."

Iggy let a small smile pass his lips but said nothing, keeping up the image of the hurt and dying boy.

**Okay, so I actually plan on finishing this story, but I will need encouragement. Reviews, please? Pretty please?**

**Also, a general disclaimer, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean!**


	10. Deals Made in Prison 2

Iggy frowned and nearly cursed as he felt hands lift him up onto something. The uncomfortable feeling was increased when that something was picked up, and he felt that he was being moved. He only dared open his eyes when the thin table-like thing he was lying on had been set down, in a bright room. His eyes quickly scanned the cold stone room. On the walls hung various doctor tools, and the only way in and out was a door, the door he had apparently come in through.

His eyes briefly met Jack's, who was now in uniform as Taylor Hightower, but he looked away after a split second, not wanting to draw attention. His hand zoomed up as he felt something cold push against his forehead and his head snapped around to find his arm grasping the one of a girl. Shocked, it seemed, he let go of her.

"Sorry miss," he muttered, turning his head back to face upwards, letting the girl continue cleaning his forehead with the wet rag. When he felt like his face had been scrubbed off (which it probably had- he couldn't remember the last time he had had a bath), he felt the cold rag move down to his neck, and a small giggle was heard above him.

His eyes opened again to look at the girl, who had just emitted said giggle. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment, and she stopped at once.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound disrespectful. It's just, I had the thought and checked, and, well, you have longer hair than me!" she concluded with another giggle. At this revelation, Iggy couldn't stifle a small laugh.

"Suppose I do. Hey what's your name, by the way?" Iggy smiled encouragingly at the girl. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a small grin form on Jack's lips; the older pirate clearly seemed to know what the boy was playing at.

"Olivia Rider," the girl said. "And I know who you are."

"Oh really?" Iggy murmured under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "Pray tell, Olivia. May I call you that, Olivia?"

Olivia blushed once more.

"Yes, you may, and, if I'm not mistaken, you are Iggy Adder. Right?"

"Aye, that be me."

"Well, Iggy, if I may call you that," Olivia started, but Iggy interrupted her with a small twitch of his hand.

"We're 'bout the same age, Olivia, of course you may call me by my name."

"Alright then, Iggy, I'm, well, going to have to remove your jacket, if that's alright by you," Olivia managed to say in a single breath, the words hastily jumbling together. A small chuckle was heard from Iggy, as he nodded at Olivia's words. Said girl carefully then removed the blood soaked jacket from Iggy, frowning as it clung to the boy.

OLIVIA

The jacket was a lot heavier than she had anticipated- it was actually a small, short jacket, one of the ones that only went down to the hip. But from the jumble and clinking she could hear when she moved it, there were pockets concealed everywhere. The guard stepped over and held out a hand, offering to hold the jacket. Olivia would have happily handed it to him, had it not been for Iggy's arm shooting up to stop her.

"Ah, ah, ah, darling, there're some things in there, personal items, you see, that I'd like to keep near my person till death," the boy said, sending a triumphant glance at the guard, who seemed slightly disappointed, but shrugged it off. Carefully, she placed the jacket on a stool next to her, making sure nothing fell out. Then she turned her attention back to Iggy.

The young man was a sad sight, really. He was thin, sickly thin, seeing as his ribs were clearly outlined by the skin clinging to them. The skin on his face was also tightly stretched over the bones, and the rings under his eyes were dark, darker than bruises. His dirty blond hair fell down past his shoulders, about halfway down his back, tied in a ponytail, and Olivia had set in her mind that she'd cut it for the surgery.

Speaking of the surgery, her eyes wondered over the cuts and bruises on the boy. There were minor cuts and scratches all over his face; nothing that would leave scars, all but one. It was the major source of bleeding on the boy, even now, hours after he had been brought it, it was still spilling blood. It was a long cut that ran from right under his right eye all the way down to his collarbone, a nasty cut that looked to be having done on purpose.

She shook her head as she continued cleaning Iggy's chest and arms, but not before noticing two oddities. Well, if she counted all tattoos and scars for oddities, the boy would be covered in them- not necessarily tattoos, but soon in scars. Like every once-caught pirate, he had a 'P' branded onto his right wrist. She also noticed that he had a small tattoo of an adder on the side of his neck, the snake coiling upwards, in a vertical position. But back to the 'oddities'.

One of them was in the form of a necklace- it was nothing much, just a silver chain with a silver circle attached to the end of it. It was what was on the circle that bothered her- a five pointed star and two 'A's, written in cursive, looped together. The other oddity was a tattoo on the inside of Iggy's left elbow- the same star, just with three flaming dice coming out of it with the numbers '3', '5' and '6' on them. Underneath the tattoo were the same two interlinked 'A's.

What did they mean? Possibly a girl? Lover? Was he married? Betrothed?

"You're staring at me," a voice interrupted Olivia's thoughts, and she was jolted back into reality. Iggy's voice was… different. It was higher than a fully grown man's, obviously, and slightly hoarse, giving it an odd, soothing sound.

"'M sorry, Iggy. Was just admiring the art on your arm."

"Ah yes, that," a vague smile hushed over the boy's lips, but he made no further attempt at explaining the letters, so Olivia thought to better let it be.

NORMAL

A few hours later, Iggy awoke, the last thing in his mind being that something was injected into his arm through a needle of sorts. Probably a mild poison, he thought, to knock him out for the sewing up of his wounds. He lifted his face gingerly to peer down at his bare chest. Several stitches were keeping the flesh of about four or five long cuts on his chest; it was a miracle he was still alive. A bandage that was almost completely soaked in blood was wrapped around his left bicep, and another one around his right wrist and hand.

Iggy sat up on the table he had been laying on, looking around. The room was deserted, save for a snoring Jack Sparrow in the corner nearest to the door. The room was dark, only a few lanterns lit it up, casting a yellowish orange glow around the room. A cold draft blew in through the holes near the ceiling- missing stones used as a ventilation system. It was then that Iggy noticed the mirror in the back corner of the room.

Getting up and grimacing at the pain, he strode over to the mirror, looking at himself. What he saw disgusted him.

Starting with his hair- it was short. It had been hacked off to the base of his neck, and he missed it already. He knew he had always been somewhat… effeminate, if you pleased, about his hair, refusing to cut it. It had always been longer than the base of his neck, and always in a ponytail. Now, unfortunately, he found the leather band that had been used as a tie snapped in half on the table he'd been lying on. A few shorter strands of hair fell into his face as he shifted his hand, clearly because of the part that was now far to the left.

From the bottom of his right eye down to his collarbone, a dark red gash ran, seemingly barely held together by the small white stitches. His eyes moved down to his chest, and… well, he didn't see it for long, for he immediately ran for the next bucket and puked in it. Puking up the food he didn't have in him, but still. He closed his eyes, from which tears were streaming now, trying to get the image of his chest out of his mind, but he couldn't.

There were six cuts in total. Two of them were long, one stretching from his shoulder to his hip bone on the left, and the other straight across his ribcage. The other four were shorter, but deeper. Two were vertically placed under his ribcage on the right, one crossed the long one on his left, and the other one ran from his side and turned downwards right before his belly button.

At the image of the fresh wounds and stitches, he threw up again into the bucket. All he wanted to do right then and there was curl up in a ball and cry, to bawl his eyes out. But then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing: escaping. Looking up from the bucket (and almost puking yet again at the stench from it), his arms found his jacket. Quickly checking every pocket, he smiled when his hand, the one that wasn't bandaged, clamped around the compass. Good, it was still there.

Quickly, Iggy slipped on his jacket and buttoned up the front, hiding his scars from the world. With a sleeve, he wiped away the tears from his eyes, and cursed himself for moving that arm; it was the one where his bicep was bandaged- the left one. A small cabinet caught his eye- well, the cabinet itself didn't, but it was slightly open, and the light in the room reflected off the glass vials inside.

Iggy opened the cabinet door as quietly as possible, and took a look at the labels of the vials. The names themselves didn't mean much to the boy, but he did understand one thing- these were numbing alcohols and poisons. Before he could stop himself, his hand shot out and grabbed about four vials, stuffing them into a well-protected inside pocket of his jacket, so not to break.

Briskly, he then walked over to the still sleeping Jack, and pocked him not-so-gently on the shoulder. Said older pirate grumbled and sprang up, his eyes looking around the room wildly before landing on Iggy.

"Let's get out of this hellhole, Sparrow," Iggy hissed, opening the door and sneaking out into the darkness, Jack close at his heals.

**Reviews? ****Por favor****? ****Per favore****? ****Bitte****? Please? ****Prosz****ę****? C'mon, I'm running out of languages here….**


	11. Deals Made in Prison 3

**This chapter's more Jack-centered. Hope you like it.**

Iggy knew it wasn't the best idea to be running in his weakened state. Hell, he was supposed to be lying down knocked out by some mild poison or strong alcohol, like the stuff he had stolen from the cabinet. But he continued going, following Jack through the back streets of Port Augustus. Jack had was already dressed in his usual clothes again and all his effects were on him, unlike Iggy, whose cutlass was still hanging in the prison.

"Wait a mo," he called out to Jack, who only unwillingly stopped.

"What?" the captain asked, clearly annoyed by the hold-up. "My ship leaves in an hour, and I am not letting that bloody thing sail away without me again," he hissed at Iggy, but the boy merely shrugged and pointed to his right. Jack looked up to see a blacksmith's logo. Iggy's plan was now clear in his eyes- of course the boy would want a weapon, hell, the boy _needed_ a weapon. The only question was: how was he going to hold it? His right hand was bandaged and he could barely move his left arm without cringing in pain.

"Wait here," Iggy muttered, disappearing into the shop. A minute or two later, he came out, a very nicely made cutlass hanging at his side.

"Great, now you have a murderous weapon you can't hold, can we bloody go now?" Jack was just about to turn and leave again, when an arm held him back, accompanied by a soft chuckle.

"You think I have no weapons?" Iggy questioned, for the first time, full-out grinning and opening his mouth. What Jack saw was definitely unusual. Iggy's canines, the upper ones, had been replaced, by sharp silver ones, probably steel or so, curving slightly inward. The lower ones had also been replaced, though they weren't as long. "Ever wonder how I got my last name?" Iggy grinned, and let go of Jack.

Jack shuddered involuntarily at the thought of the 'snake teeth' in Iggy's mouth, but kept going; he was not letting the _Pearl _sail on without him again.

"Jack? That be ye, Jack?" Jack heard Gibbs' voice.

"Aye, I be me. And I has company, so if you'll kindly get out of the way…" _ye filthy pig_, Jack finished his sentence in his mind as the smell of Gibbs wafted towards him, making him cringe slightly.

"What the hell have you been sleeping in?" he heard the boy, Iggy, ask from behind him. Gibbs grunted and shrugged, turning back to Jack.

"'E's yer company, Jack?"

"Well… wouldn't exactly call him company, but th'boy has me bloody compass and won't give it back till Shipwreck Cove."

"Ah, so that be where we're headin', cap'n?"

"Aye, Shipwreck Cove," Jack responded; by now they were on the deck, and the familiar feeling of home was settling in him. "Ye wouldn't have happened to pick up more crew along the way, would ye, Gibbs?" he queried.

"Aye, I did; many a seaworthy lad in Port Augustus. Even a young lass 'oos here to see ye," Gibbs grinned and Jack frowned.

"Lass? Woman? Thought you were always the one to say it was bad luck to bring a woman aboard, mate."

"Aye, sir, but this 'un wouldn't let loose- says she 'as a letter for ye."

Jack grunted in frustration and pushed Gibbs aside, his eyes scanning the seven men who were standing there.

"Th'names are Larry, Lucas, Oliver, James, Jacob and Sammy. And this 'un… well, this 'un's the lass I told ye 'bout. Refused to give up her name," Gibbs muttered the last part, clearly annoyed at this. It was only then that Jack noticed the last man to actually be a girl. Thinking about it, it should've been obvious- she was slighter than the others. Shorter, and had no facial hair. Well, some of the men didn't either, but you could see the stubble on them.

The girl had to be in her early twenties, so still fairly young, and was a few inches shorter than Jack, but still about five inches taller than Iggy. Her dark brown hair was braided down either side of her head, and at the back, the two braids joined into one. Her skin was a light cappuccino color- pleasant, and her eyes were dark green.

The reason Jack had probably thought her to be a boy was that one, she was standing alongside men, and two, she was wearing men's clothes. They were slightly too big for her, especially the jacket, which covered her hands. One of these jacket-covered hands was now holding out something to Jack- a letter. As he took it from her, he noticed her hands were shaking slightly, though it was impossible to tell whether it was out of nervousness or something else.

Taking the letter somewhat suspiciously, Jack opened it and started reading.

_Dear Jack, _well, this was starting out well, Jack mused.

_I don't know if you remember me- probably not. My name is Jennifer Hale, and by the time you read this, I will probably be dead. The young woman you got this letter from is my daughter- and yours. Yes, Jack, you have a daughter._

_I don't know if this happens to you a lot, having children run along to you, but I honestly don't care. You are in debt to her, Jack, to both of us. Leaving me with a bastard child has not made life easy, and people look down upon her. The least you could do is take her into your crew and train her to be a pirate. Teach her to be like you, Jack._

_With not so much love,_

_Jennifer._

Jack found his eyebrows raised by the end of the letter, and his eyes flitted between the girl and it. Finally, he let out a small breath of air and turned his attention to the girl, folding the letter and slipping it into a coat pocket.

"Well, lass, if you are going to be sailin' wiv me, I'm going to have to know your name."

"Aline Hale," she answered in a quiet voice, not looking into Jack's eyes. Jack simply nodded and briefly turned his head to face the rest of the crew.

"All hands, make sail! I want to get out of this bloody port as soon as possible!" Jack shouted, and the ship came to life, with people coming on deck, to their stations, letting down the sails, trying to gain speed as they sailed out of Port Augustus.

.

"Jack?" Ah, bugger. It was that annoying snake boy again.

"Yes, lad?" Jack said, not turning around to face Iggy.

"Uh… how long is it to Shipwreck Cove? It's just, the _Van Trixen_ only makes port there once every six weeks and… well… after a few incidents, I'm not all that welcome there anymore."

Jack chuckled at the boy's ashamed voice.

"The _Van Trixen_, you say? Dutch boat. Built by young Evan van Trixen, no doubt. But to answer your question, boy, I'd say, give it… a month. A month till I get me bloody compass back and a month till you'll stop being bloody around, savvy?" Jack turned and gave Iggy a sarcastic grin, showing his teeth- the normal ones and the silver ones, but silently praying Iggy wouldn't do the same- those snakebites, as Jack called them, really freaked him out.

"Ugh…" Iggy seemed just as annoyed over the journey. "You knew Evan?"

"Not directly, no. What purpose d'you 'av on the _Trixen_ anyway?"

"Haven't you heard, Jack? 'M the captain now. When I was six, I ran away from my home. Evan took me under his wing on his ship, and when he died, he named me captain."

This perked Jack's interest. He had heard of Iggy Adder before he met the boy, and he knew he captained a ship, but the _Van Trixen_? That was pretty serious. People told stories about the ship- horrible stories. Well, then again, it was a pirate ship.

"Go on, son, ask," Jack muttered absentmindedly, feeling Iggy's eyes still on him. The boy's stare made him somewhat uncomfortable- it wasn't every day he met someone with a… not really 'death glare', more like, a very pointed stare.

"There wouldn't happen to be a doctor of sorts on this ship, would there? It's just, my bandage on my left arm needs to be changed and one of my stitches came out."

Jack shuddered at the mental image of this.

"Well, boy, sorry to disappoint ya, but I can't think of a single one of these filthy sea dogs that are able to help ye."

"I can," a clear voice said from behind Jack. Said captain spun around to come face-to-face with Aline Hale. _His daughter_. No, he did not fancy that idea, not one bit.

"That so, love?" he questioned, and a faint blush crept into the girl's cheeks.

"Well, I was apprenticed to a doctor in Hispaniola, and what the boy described isn't that hard to fix up. Since I don't really know anything about sailing, I thought I could help out here."

"A doctor, ey? Well… if you think you can fix this… _thing's_ ouchies, then by all means, please do. And make sure he stays unconscious for the longest amount of time possible!"

"Oi! I'm a man! Boy, male! Not a thing," Iggy hollered, but Jack simply grimaced and turned around again.

"Mister Gibbs should've stocked up on bandages and such; you can ask him where they are. Now take that annoying snake away before I shoot him," Jack grumbled to no one in particular, but Aline heard, took Iggy by the un-bandaged wrist (ignoring said boy's protests) and went in search for Gibbs and the supplies she needed.

**Short chapter, not that good at writing Jack-centered stuff. What do you guys think of Aline? Iggy? How do you like the interaction between the characters? Review, please!**


	12. Deals Made in Prison 4

"Ow! Ouch! Hey- ow! Bloody- holy- gah!"

"Will you shut up?" Aline hissed over Iggy's shouts of pain, but the younger boy just glared at her.

"Shut up? You want me to shut up? Then give me my fucking jacket!" he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut once more as Aline continued to pull the bandage off his left arm. She rolled her eyes and gave the once-white, now blood soaked bandage another tug, and it came off, along with the beginning of a scab and a yelp by Iggy.

"Will you please shut him up?" The captain's voice rang through to the small cabin Aline had set up as a practice room.

"I'm afraid we have too little and too weak alcohol for that," she shouted back, and as a response, the soft click that came from a gun was heard from in front of her. Her eyes locked with the barrel of a pistol that Iggy was pointing at her with his right hand. Though still bandaged, he had a pretty firm grip on the weapon.

"Just give me my bloody jacket and I will shut up," he snarled. "'M pretty sure that Oliver would not appreciate me using any of his spare shots, and I think the captain would have my head if I shot you, so I really don't want to shoot you, so, I'll say this one last time. Give. Me. My. Jacket. Now."

Aline nodded, grabbing the jacket from behind her and handing it to the boy, who lowered the gun and took the jacket, wincing in pain. A few seconds after rummaging around in it, he pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. Grinning, he pulled the cork out with his teeth and spit it across the room. Just as he was about to turn it upside down and down it, Aline grabbed it from his hands, holding it an inch under her nose, and sniffing at it. Disgusted, she pulled her head away.

Sure, she was used to the smell of alcohol- it was a common numbing substance with doctors. But she had never smelled anything as strong as this before- too much would probably kill Iggy.

"Darling, I really don't want to point dear Oliver's gun at you again, but please, give me that back, and I promise you, I will be knocked out until at least tomorrow morning," she heard Iggy's voice through her thoughts, a slight drawl detectable in it. It annoyed her, the seemed arrogance of the boy- there was always something about him that made him seem… uninterested in whatever the conversation was, and he was very easily distracted.

Sighing, she handed the alcohol back to Iggy, and watched him down it before she could as much as protest. Rather quickly, Iggy's eyes glazed over as his pupils dilated. Within a minute, his face was blank, and he wasn't moving; Aline had to check his pulse to make sure he was still alive. Coming to the conclusion that he was dying or had an extremely slow pulse beat, Aline took a more careful look at the wounds.

.

Two hours later, she was done. She had to admit- she had done a pretty good job. Unfortunately, that had involved cutting off the circulation in Iggy's left arm- somehow, the wound had gotten infected; blood poisoning. Luckily, it was only mild, but the red lines were already spreading, and if they didn't make port within a week to get the supplies necessary, things looked bad for Iggy.

With those pleasant thoughts in her mind, she left the cabin in search for something to do; something that could take her mind off of what she had been doing the past two hours. Though Aline had seen injuries like Iggy's a lot during her time as an apprentice, there was something about the ones Iggy had that made her sick.

She didn't know if it was the unhealthy color of his skin, the ribs that poked out, or the fact that his body was now disfigured by scars. One thing was sure, she thought, and that was that Iggy was already close to dying when they caught him.

Making a mental note that she'd question Iggy about his life later, Aline made her way above deck, to tell the captain that they had to make port soon. The captain. The man that was allegedly her father.

.

Iggy's fingers, the ones of his un-bandaged hand, clenched around the silver circle of his necklace as he slept. Well, if you could call the alcohol-induced trance sleep. But when else did you dream than in sleep?

"_Anatol!" _

The shout just rang in his head, over and over again.

"_Anatol! Anatol! ANATOL!"_

The person shouting the name was panicking, and Iggy could hear explosions in the background. He didn't know why, in his present state, the image was so terrifying. He didn't know why he was thinking of this; he didn't know why anything was happening around him. He didn't know why he couldn't feel his left arm, he didn't know why his head was pounding, he didn't know why the bloody hell he was alive.

"_Anatol…."_

The name was barely a whisper now. Oddly, Iggy found he wanted to hear the voice again; he longed to hear the voice again. But suddenly, all at once, everything came crashing into view. The colors were blurry but vibrant, nothing made sense, and he shut his eyes, trying to block it all out, but it just came back. He was drenched in sweat; the nightmare of being awake wouldn't stop.

With a jerk, he sat up, falling out of the bed he had been lying on. A shout escaped him as he hit the floor; the pain was too great. He just wanted to be in that trance again, he wanted to feel the burning alcohol slide down his throat once more; he just wanted to be numb.

Arms soon found themselves wrapped around him, and he found himself crying into them. They were comforting, rocking him back and forth. Voices, there were many voices. And footsteps. A lot of shuffling going on. He didn't want to hear it. He wanted to hear nothing, to see nothing, but when he tried to block the noises, the shouts of that accursed name came back to his ears, and when he closed his eyes, bright explosions flooded his vision.

"Shh, i-it's okay, Iggy, it's okay…" he heard a voice murmur above him. "It's okay…."

.

Aline had just made her way above deck and past a very confused Oliver (scratching his head and wondering where his gun was) and had just spotted Jack when she heard the first shout. At first she was confused, but then the shout was followed by a panicked scream and another shut, out of pain presumably, and she knew something was wrong. Iggy wasn't supposed to be awake yet. The alcohol was still supposed to have him knocked out.

When she got to the cabin she had left Iggy in, she found the boy on the floor, his eyes torn wide open, tears streaming down his cheeks. Her motherly instincts decided to kick in that moment (why hadn't they decided to show up earlier, when she was still working in the hospital?) and she crouched down over Iggy, taking him up in her arms, rocking him gently, whispering soothing words to him.

Soon, Aline heard footsteps behind her, and she turned around to see Oliver, Gibbs and Jack himself standing there, looking down on them.

"Oi! Me gun!" she heard Oliver exclaim, and said man rushed over to pick up the gun that had been dropped on the floor earlier. "Cheeky bugger!" he frowned at Iggy, who was still crying into Aline's arms. He had shut his eyes again, but seconds later they flew open as a small cry escaped his lips, and the tears began to flow freshly. It was right around then that Aline understood- the alcohol. Iggy was hallucinating.

"What is…?" Jack started, but Aline answered the question before it left Jack's mouth.

"Hallucinating. He took a very strong alcohol to knock himself out and now he's hallucinating. It must be pretty bad," she added, more to herself than anyone else.

"And how long…?"

"I don't know. The problem is that with his ratio of muscle to general body fat, the strength and amount of alcohol he took could have killed him. He's at his weakest point right now. I don't know how long this effect will last. But someone will have to be here constantly, guarding him."

"Pray tell will happen," Jack muttered, looking suspiciously at Iggy.

"Well, anything, really. He could wake up and not know who he is, he could die, he could take a weapon and kill himself…." She trailed off.

"Well, if that be the case, Oliver! You have the privilege of getting to stay 'n watch the snake boy with Miss Hale till he wakes up. Still has me bloody compass somewhere and I want it back, for which he has to be alive."

Oliver looked disappointed but did not protest the captain's orders. Jack turned nd was just about to leave, when Aline called out.

"Wait, Captain Sparrow!"

"Jack. 'S'not right for a girl to be callin' me Cap'n Sparrow unless she be a wench, and you are not, love, so Jack."

"Alright then… Jack…" Aline looked at him uncertainly, but kept talking. "He had a pretty nasty wound on his upper left arm and the blood somehow got poisoned. I had to stop the blood flow temporarily, but if we don't make port within a week and get the necessary supplies, he'll lose his arm."

Jack seemed mildly annoyed at the demands, but briefly nodded after a few seconds of consideration.

"But don't 'xpect me to make any more unnecessary stops! I want to get to Shipwreck Cove on the fastest route possible!"

**What say you to that? **

**Some things to think about:**

**Why was Iggy hearing the name 'Anatol'?**

**Who was shouting the name 'Anatol'?**

**How are Aline and Jack going to interact as daughter and father?**

**Is it a good thing that Oliver took his gun back when he did?**


	13. Flames Through the Darkness

**For this, all you need to know is that 'Bonifác' is pronounced like 'Boniface' and 'Kazimir' is pronounced like 'Casimir'.**

"Bonifác? Bo, we need to go. C'mon. For God's sake, Bonifác Moravec, move your skinny little butt away from here!"

"Shut up, Kazimir," came the response. "And for the last time, don't call me Bonifác. It's Skala or Bo."

Kazimir growled in frustration, kicking a nearby gravestone with all his might. The boy who was kneeling next to him, with his gaze directed at another gravestone, seemed unfazed.

"That's disrespectful," was all Bo murmured, not once turning to look at his companion. Instead, his fingers traced the fading letters on the gravestone in front of him. _Jarek Moravec_. Bo missed his brother. He missed him like any younger sibling would miss an older one. Now he had no one to turn to. Sure, he could go running back to his parents, but doing that would be like running into a death trap.

"I don't care, Bo. By the racket you caused, I'm surprised no one's found us yet!"

Bo chuckled.

"Well, a graveyard isn't exactly a place they'd look for an arsonist, is it? Don't worry, we have-" a loud bang interrupted Bo mid-sentence, and he felt something whizz past his ear; bullet. Oh blast, they had found them.

"Now can we go?" and angry Kazimir shouted at him, and Bo was only too happy to follow his companion.

The two boys were followed by bullets and shouts as they ran through the labyrinth of gravestones and monuments of the graveyard. Navigating through the grey stones took a certain skill that Kazimir seemed to have, but it had apparently gone straight in Bo's one ear and out the other. In other words, had it not been for his friend, Bo would have been hopelessly lost.

Actually, scratch that last thought, Bo frowned as they rounded a crucifix that was taller than them together and were greeted by bayonets.

"'Ello, boys," a heavily accented English voice spoke from behind the bayonets. There was some shuffling around, and a man emerged from the midst of the soldiers. "We meet again," Derrick Sherwood drawled, looking at his young captives that were now completely surrounded by soldiers.

"'Ello, Sherry," Bo grinned and was slapped across the face.

"Kazimir. Still got that _charm_, I see."

It was funny, Bo thought, how people always confused him with his friend, even though they looked nothing alike.

For starters, Kazimir was a good head taller than Bo. He had blond curly hair, blue eyes, fair skin, and a well- muscled body structure. In short, girls called him a god, and the name 'Bonifác' suited his… well, his angelic features.

Bo, on the other hand, found it hard to believe his name wasn't Kazimir. His skin was a bronze color, and his short dark brown hair spiked out in every which way. His eyes were dark, almost black, going along with the general colors he wore. Unlike most boys in his age, he had a somewhat rebellious look to him. As usual, he was wearing his black boots that reached halfway up his shins, and the worn black pants. Covering his upper body he had on a dark red shirt (the dye had been expensive as hell) with ripped off sleeves under an old leather jacket.

Again, Kazimir was the complete opposite, with his brown boots and britches, the clean white shirt and light blue waistcoat. How and why they were friends was a mystery to both of them, but even though they had practically nothing in common, and should've hated each other, personality wise, they were close friends.

Bo was ripped from his thoughts as Kazimir spoke next to him, replying to something that Sherwood had said while Bo was lost in thought.

"I don't care for your 'reasoning', mate, but slapping a helpless little boy such as and like young Bonifác over here is still rude."

"Ah, I see you're still playing at _that_ game," Sherwood muttered, and Bo looked up.

"What game?" he asked, genuinely confused. Sherwood rolled his eyes.

"Calling each other by reversed names. You know, it might fool men of lesser intelligence, but it doesn't fool me. I know that you are Kazimir and he is Bonifác," he hissed, and Bo could hardly stifle a laugh.

"Whatever you say, Sherry, whatever you say."

"Camden, the irons, if you please. Now, as you are being handcuffed, I have a deal that might get you out of an appointment with the gallows," Sherwood started and a man stepped forward with handcuffs, but was interrupted by Bo.

"Seriously? The gallows? For arson? What are the other charges?"

"If you would let me finish, Kazimir, I was getting to that. If you give up the location of two people, the charge of piracy will be dropped and only the one of arson will remain."

"Piracy? Sorry, Sherry, you've got us confused with some other people. We are, by no means, pirates. We're nothing but a mere thief and an arsonist," Bo frowned, but Sherwood seemed persistent in ignoring him.

"The charge of piracy will be dropped if you give up the location of the following people: Wolfe Gabrielson and Jack Sparrow."

Bo and Kazimir visibly stiffened at the mentions of the names, and a sly smile crept over Sherwood's face.

"So you do know where they are."

"Knowing them and knowing where they are, there's a difference," Bo muttered, looking to the ground. After a few seconds of silence, he shook his head and looked back up at Sherwood.

"No."

"No what?"

"We don't know where they are," Kazimir cut in.

"And we don't know why we're being charged of piracy, goddammit," Bo added, glaring at Sherwood.

"Assisting in the escape of both Gabrielson and Sparrow, sailing under a pirate flag, and being known associates with Gabrielson, is that enough?" He said coldly, and a small smile crossed his lips as he saw Bo flinch from the pain of the handcuffs. "Now, now, Camden, we wouldn't want our little arsonist losing his fingers, would we?"

Camden looked a bit downfallen, but still loosened the shackles just a little, and a brief look of relief flitted over Bo's face.

"Don't look too happy, Kazimir. You're getting branded tonight," Sherwood growled, and the fear in the boy's eyes evidently pleased him. In response, Bo snorted.

"Oh, the irony. The arsonist getting branded. And for the last time, Sherwood, _I_ am Bonifác, not Kazimir!" Bo sneered, but Sherwood merely shrugged, jerking his head towards the exit of the graveyard. About three soldiers followed, then Kazimir and Bo, being pushed roughly with their hands shackled behind their backs, and then the rest of the soldiers, each looking quite pleased with themselves.

.

.

"Kaz?" Bo's voice came through the darkness like the one of a scared little boy. After being branded first, Kazimir was thrown into a prison cell and Bo had been yanked out. A few hours later, when it was already pitch black in the cell, Bo had been thrown in roughly by the guards.

"Yes, Skala?" Kazimir answered, using Bo's oldest nickname. Usually, Bo had something against people calling him Skala, for it had been the name Jarek called him. Only Jarek. But when Jarek died and told Kazimir to keep Bo safe, Kazimir had taken over the role as Bo's brother and friend.

"They're not going to catch Wolfe, right?"

Kazimir sighed at Bo's worriedness about their… friend wasn't really the word; it was more like… mentor.

"I don't know, Skala. But we need to warn him. The Company's not going to give up looking for him until he's dead, and… well, you saw Sherwood today. Tell me, what do you think?"

Bo chuckled drily.

"Well… he was a lot less wordy than last time. He seemed… I don't know, almost insecure, but he was smug, very smug, as if he knew something we didn't."

"Very good. Now, about getting out of here; how's your burn? Can you move your hand?"

Through the dark, Kazimir could barely see Bo nod, but he did all the same.

"Perfect," he murmured, turning to look at the prison bars. "Do you have any…" he started, but soon felt Bo's presence next to him. He turned and looked down at the younger boy, a grin spreading on his face as he saw the lighted cloth he was holding.

"They may have caught me and put me in prison, but there are some places they just don't check and some things they just don't confiscate," Bo smiled, before quickly dousing the flames on the sandy floor. "Err… turn around for a sec, please," he muttered, flushing slightly, but Kazimir did as he was told as Bo pulled his pants down. Out of long thin pockets sewed into the sides, he took several small packs of what seemed to be plants and threw them on the floor around him.

"Okay, you can turn around again," he finished, picking up the little packages and placing them along the cell door, spacing them out just so that if he lighted one, the domino effect would take place and ignite all the others. "Now for the tricky part," Bo murmured to himself when he was done, digging around in a concealed inside pocket of his coat. After a few seconds of digging, his hands seemed to find what they wanted, a tiny wooden box containing a piece of metal the size of a crumb.

"Now all me need is water," Bo said to Kazimir, looking at the older boy expectantly. Said boy looked back incredulously.

"Water?"

"Yes, water. It's raining outside, does this cell have any leaks?"


End file.
